


All the Days of My Life

by ArdentCrocuta



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, F/M, Implied Child Murder, Knotting, M/M, Multi, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3845665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdentCrocuta/pseuds/ArdentCrocuta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is my first day at my new night job. I walk into this kids pizzeria expecting easy work with predictably shit pay, but what I get myself into will change my life forever. I am whoever you want me to be, but in the end, I'm just another victim of the insanity, the hilarity, and the utter chaos which is Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Always This Easy

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Most of this was written drunk or hungover. I am not sorry. If some of the parts seem a little sloppy with wording, I was trying my hardest to keep the gender of the night guard as ambiguous as possible for maximum smut for all readers~ I have a headcanon personally for the names of the "reader", as I have used them to ensure as much gender ambiguity as possible so there is a possibility of self-inserting. If you would like the names I use for each gender, Tyler is the male name whose appearance I have been using to visualize and the female's name would be Sylvia. I may have made them OCs for my own means be accident. Oops.
> 
> My headcanon is that Purple Guy and Phone Guy are separate people. This takes place a period of time before Mike Schmidt and the happenings of FNaF1, which also precedes Purple Guy getting into Springtrap and extends to post-FNaF3. The sister site springlock accident occurs before the story and is unrelated to Phone Guy/Purple Guy.
> 
> Due to the nature of this fanfic, I do not strictly follow the "kids souls stuck in the suits" theory to a T in the sense that the kids posses the suits, but still haunt them to an extent in a dormant form. This is based more off of real life paranormal depictions of "hauntings" and is more tied to demonology than expressed in the FNaF universe. For the sake of plot, and general human dignity, the children are not controlling the actions read in this fic!
> 
> I don't know if this qualifies as AU or merely an alternate timeline, any ideas are either mine or subconsciously references from other fics. I tried not to though. @A@;
> 
> I initially based Purple Guy off of Rebornica's version of Vincent. I can't decide if it's because I was stuck with his appearance in my mind's eye, or if I can't resist the fandom. :3 I was worried about there being a problem with this, so to respect Reb's characters/intellectual property, I've changed parts the character and personality, but kept the name and hairstyle. If you see this and you have a problem with it, Rebs, I'll change it. ;w; The same also applies with the name Scott for the Phone Guy if anybody coined that as well. I have no intentions of using any content maliciously.
> 
> Warnings for noncon (oh god I'm so sorry), dubcon, inconsistent tense switching, knotting, bondage, crude language, caffeinated beverages, implied child murder, crude language, and bath bombs.

"I wish they were gonna be nice and give me the courtesy of a reach-around before they fucked me dry. No sick days? No vacation?" I laugh. Scott laughs as well and fiddles with the camera. He's a genuine sweetheart, as far as I know. He runs the day shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza and he is going to be my daytime counterpart here on the premises. He has that odd color of hair that you can't tell if it's blonde, brown, or whatever, and he spikes it up in a way that makes him appear much younger than I expected. His brown eyes twinkle like the black metal piercings on his lips when he laughs, which happened often in the last few hours since I have met him.

"I think you'll do very well here then. Many applicants turned right back to the door when they heard that one." I shrug, unperturbed. "I need the money, and if I get tired of it, I can always quit."

"Not as easy as you think, squirt." I spin around to face the voice. The man before me stood a few good inches taller than Scott, which was already a few more inches taller than myself. With a completely purple dye job pulled into a short ponytail, sharp brown eyes, and a wide, toothy grin, I wondered if this newcomer had crawled out from under the nearest Hot Topic to come berate me. He's wearing a gray t-shirt, which gives me an ample view of the full sleeves of tattoos down both of his arms. I stare at this, what I imagine to be, convicted felon as Scott jumps up from his chair and embraces the odd haired man in recognition. "Hey Vincent! I thought you were gonna be late?" He asked. I pull back one side of my mouth into a grimace, brows narrowed in thought.

"Vincent? Hey- Weren't you the guy who was accused to killing those kids?! The fuck are you doing here?" The purple haired man laughed, disentangled himself from my coworker, and extended a hand to introduce himself. I look at it, as if expecting it to be covered in blood or chloroform, but shake it regardless. His hands are rough and calloused, and his grip firm. "Yes, I am the infamous 'Purple Guy' who people claimed killed kids, but I was dropped of all charges and left to roam the world a free man. There was no proof that I had actually killed anybody, and since the bodies were never found, it was safe to say that the accusations were pretty weak. I was always in my office and they had the proof of that. I'm just here now to keep Scott's spirits up." His vocabulary teeters between haughty and intelligent to sardonic in an unpredictable fashion, so I'm unsure at first if I should trust him, so I merely stare.

Scott interjects, steering the topic back to work as he notices my suspicion. "As for it not being as easy as you think- According to the higher ups, these animatronics are completely safe... With kids... During the day. We both have seen what they can do to night guards, which is the reason for the high turnover rate. The reason being: the animatronics try to stuff staff into suits, and even worse sometimes. It's been such a problem that we try to ensure there's at least one empty suit backstage to prevent... Injuries. We even have some of the older springlock suits in the back room still in case of an absolute emergency."

"How do you MANAGE?" I ask, my mouth dropped just open enough to indicate shock, not mouthbreather status. Scott turns and plops down into his cheap Ikea office chair and stares, his expression deadpan, as if hours of untold stories rested just beyond his tired gaze.

"Trust me, by night three I had 50% stock in Monster and a Red Bull IV drip. This shit sucks." Vincent smiles broadly and presses himself closer to Scott with a chuckle. "We used to work with these animatronics at their last location when we were barely legal to work. Believe me, this place is much safer than the old one." The two pass a knowing look to one another, and for a moment I feel out of place, as if they knew something that I didn't. 

As it had appeared that Scott took the role for changing awkward conversation topics, he pipes up again. "Aaanyways, we'll get out of your hair soon so you can get used to working the cameras. Trust me when I say it's not easy to teach you myself. We- Well, we both have slightly different methods of saving power. As long as you have some by the end of the night, you should be golden!" We talk pleasantries and get to know one another for a short time, then I follow them out of the office and to the door leading out to the parking lot. They ensure I have the keys and show me how to lock the big metal door.

"HAVE FUN BONING!" I shout brusquely out the back door, now more comfortable that my coworker and his friend are at least somewhat cool with my sailor's mouth. Vincent turns, shoot me a protective grin, and grabs hold of Scott's left ass cheek, causing him to jump. I pause, my mouth dropping open. "OH MY GOD YOU'RE ACTUALLY BONING."

Scott calls over his shoulder, fighting off Vincent's curious hands. "If you have any questions, feel free to let me know before you leave in the morning! I left a recording for you with the basics!" I don't take his words too seriously. I actually feel quite confident in myself, to be honest. They were silly animatronics! I don't let their 'people getting stuffed into a suit' ploy to spook me, and lock myself into the building. With energy drink in hand, I settle into my chair with a happy sigh and prepare to take on the night.

\-----------------------------

As six in the morning rolls around, I watch the animatronics come to rest in their positions. "Dirty bastards." I laugh. Freddy and Foxy, the ones I'm warned to keep an eye on, hadn't moved and inch from their assigned spots. Around two, Chica had slipped away into the kitchen, doing I don't know what, and Bonnie had wandered between the backstage maintenance room and the main party area so many times that my head spun. Still, I proudly stuck my tablet into Scott's face the next morning. "20%!" I cry in victory. Vincent snatches my tablet away, glances at it, and sets it back on the table. "They went easy on you." He muttered, appearing somewhat disappointed, or was it relieved?

I arrive home as planned, scrub my happy ass, and sleep well into evening, gloating to myself that tomorrow would be the same. Scott was an idiot if he thought I would run out of power any time soon.


	2. Fifty Shades of Fazbear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two things happen. First of all, I hear the baritone chuckle of Freddy Fazbear coming down the hall to my right. Second, the power cuts off.
> 
> I am not ready for Freddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Chapter Two just to give you some wonderful smut! Enjoy!

Oh man.

I should have taken Scott's advice.

It is currently one minute past FOUR in the morning on my fourth night on the job. I sit bolt upright in my chair and hold the tablet so close to my face that evidence of oil marks streak the screen. "C'mon- C'mon." I plead to my bootleg iPad, tapping through the cameras in search of that damned rabbit. At the first sign of movement, I slam my left door down, completely unsure of how long it would take for these robots from hell to reach my office. I never saw either Bonnie the Bunny or Chica the Chicken peeking through the windows though. It was almost as if they would creep down the hall, see the doors shut, then return from where they came. Night One seemed like a wonderful daydream compared to night two, and night three had still been easy compared to this furry hell. As my power trickles down to its last five percent, I start to panic. I realize that nothing can get me through two hours on two percent power. I stare at my screen as it trickles down to one percent, zero percent, and then-

Two things happen. First of all, I hear the baritone chuckle of Freddy Fazbear coming down the hall to my right. Second, the power cuts off. I am not ready for Freddy.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER." I shout, abandoning my tablet and chair in favor of curling up under the desk, scooting the rolling office furniture up against my body so it looked like I was never in the room to begin with. Hey, if it fooled my idiot cousins in grade school, it could hopefully fool Freddy. I know he's right at the door, the sick sounds of a bastard Toreador March ringing into the room as his facial features flashed. I figured he was expecting to see me a screaming howling mess, clutching my off brand iPad and shitting myself in this cheap Ikea office chair, which is why the music cut after only a few seconds. It was just enough time for it to sink in that all was not right.

"Bonnie!" The bear shouted, summoning his long-eared partner in crime to the opposite door. "Yes Freddy?" Bon Bon replied, his magenta eyes scanning the room in bewilderment.

"It's four AM, and there is something missing from this office... Were you just in the hallway when the power shut off?"

"Oh yes, Freddy- I didn't see or hear anybody come by."

"Then they're in the office." Two sets of eyes go to the desk and I pucker my asshole as I hear the gentle creak of the chair's springs as Bonnie reaches to pull it back. Fuck.

It all happens too quickly- I spring out of my hiding place and attempt to lunge out the door clearing Freddy by a good three inches. As I enter the hallway, I see Chica at the other end, taking up the entire door frame with her round feathered body. "FUCK." I shout uselessly. I turn to back to the office, decide I'm not going to reenter the space currently holding 2/4 of the animatronics, and crash into the wall ending the East Hall like that one viral video about cats jumping into mirrors. I throw my arms up, concede defeat, and curl into a little ball, whimpering like a bitch as Freddy and Bonnie finally emerge from my office to observe the fallout of my massive fuck-up. I know I'm dead- There's no stopping that. I hope, cynically, that there was a suit in the back room without an endoskeleton.

The hands on me are rough and unrelenting, snatching me up by both my pantlegs with such a violence that they slipped off my hips. As they dragged me down the hall, I forwent screaming and decided that my slacks were a matter of life an death. With no warning, I pop my belt and button, rip my zipper completely loose, and tear back off into the darkness of my office. Cursing, Freddy and Bonnie turn to see the last of my figure vanish back into the room. I was a genius for all of another ten seconds. As I cut through the office, I become aware of the sound of footsteps in the other hallway. 

Foxy.

I decided, fuck it- I'm dead anyways, and pelt down the hall holding the damaged animatronic, catching him just off guard enough to not bite off my frontal lobe. No, he lunges, missing my main body mass by another few sacred inches, and skids off into the darkness. By this time, I have had enough of this nightmare and I start to run again, except for the sole fact that my foot had hooked Foxy's as he fell. I crash into the floor again, staring at the tacky checkerboard carpet in the main party room. The tile of white nearest me is flecked red with the blood from my busted lip. I go to get to my hands and knees, but fail.

"Don't you fucking try." Freddy rumbled dangerously, his animatronic foot set square on my back. He looked like some satanic childhood rendition of a furry Captain Morgan. Bonnie wrenches my hands together, his grip almost crushing. I feel some sort of cordage tied tight around my wrists, then the foot lifts off just enough for Bonnie to physically thread the rope between my legs, where he then ties my bound wrists to my ankles with the same length of material. I turn my head aside to breathe and realize that I'm, concerning the situation, fucked. Bonnie rocks back on his haunches and admires his handiwork, smirking.

"I was gonna be nice and give you the courtesy of a reacharound, but I'm not feeling too generous after you pulled that stunt."

I blanch in shock at the familiarity. I used that term my first day here, didn't I? In that situation, I was lamenting about being fucked over by the management when it came to my benefits- I don't think Freddy's talking about my employment options now, though. I stare at Bonnie with a mingling feeling of dread and confusion, my eyes shutting when a hand goes to pet my head. I cringe. "There, there- We just want to have us some fun." Freddy chuckled and ran his hand down my spine. Upon reaching my underwear, he gestures to Chica, who delivers with a kitchen knife.

Freddy crouches down, armed. "I want this one-" He states flatly, cutting my undergarments away with all the grace of a car accident. Chica merely shrugs dismissively and saunters down the hallway where Foxy has yet to emerge, most likely to check on the wreckage. I wonder what he wants. My attention is on the retreating animatronic until I see it. Between the bear's fuzzy legs is a coal black penis of nonhuman appearance. Two things shoot through my mind. One: Oh my god that bear has a penis- and Two: Oh my god that bear has a penis and it wants to fuck me.

I have no reaction- Literally everything I have known about life never prepared me for anything remotely like this. Even the episodes of Vice and CSI talking about the furry porn pandemic never mentioned demonic animatrons. My ass and more sensitive parts proudly on show, Freddy leans down without another word and ghosts his fingers down the cleft of my cheeks to stoke me.

\-----------------------

Within minutes, I have gone from a grown adult with goals and dreams to a lump of trembling matter, panting and moaning the name of my fuzzy attacker as he rolls me onto my back and devours my flesh at the junction of my thighs. I try, feebly, to change the pitch of my strangled moans from one of bliss to a cry of misery, the rutting of my hips easy evidence of the contrary. By now, I am absolutely throbbing with need, and I forget all about my situation. He laps from bottom to top, lingering on a particular point with his mouth and tongue until I think I may snap my bonds.

He withdraws for a second, prepping his fingers with his saliva before his mouth is on me again. This time, I feel a probing sensation, the pressure, and then I scream. I cum so hard that I lose consciousness for a few moments, the body-shattering sensation enough that when I come to, I can barely see as well. I feel my cheek touch the floor once more and the pressure releases for good. I resort to stammering and panting nonsense, my hips swaying like a bitch in heat as I hear Freddy lick his lips.

No sooner had I recovered, Freddy probed my entrance with the tip of his dick without hesitating, groaning happily. "You're so fucking tight-" He rumbled, clenching my buttocks in one of his paws, "I'm going to fucking split you open." I reflect on the reasoning and wonder if it's to do with the fact I do kegels on the job. With the amount of clenching I do on a regular basis when it comes to this shit, I'm amazed he would even fit at all. Musing on that thought, I believe it for a split second as he pushes into me, the woosh of the breath leaving my lungs causing Bonnie to perk up and stop staring at my lower half.

He glanced up at Freddy as if struck by inspiration, and scooted closer until he was level with my mouth. I move my head obediently to suck, but found my position too much to accomplish. I can't breathe. "The knife." I wheeze. Bonnie takes a moment for the words to sink in and pops to when it does. Snatching the knife off the nearby table, he sinks down and cuts the cord in just the right place to leave both ankles and wrists bound. That motherfucker.

Victorious, Bonnie dragged my face into his groin with a needy sound, groaning as I take the tip of his similarly nonhuman dick into my mouth. With dread, I realize that not only am I getting fucked by robots, they've proceeded to Eiffel tower me in the process. As I mentally tick the check box on my sexual bucket list, I bring my hands away from my ankles, propping myself up on my elbows so that I could take more of him into my mouth. Bonnie squirms, a hand coming to rest on my head as he rocked back, watching my greedy lips from one barely cracked magenta iris. I shiver in arousal and wonder how a robots' eyes could actually smolder like that.

At long last, I feel fur against my thighs as Freddy hilts himself inside. He leans over my body and grasps blindly for my hips and I tremble, my body barely able to accomodate an intrusion of his girth. When he moves, I shudder at the sensation. "F-Fre." I'm shaking too hard to process what I am saying and the words come out around Bonnie's cock muffled. Freddy pulls almost completely out, only to hilt himself in me again, this time with less resistance and more pleasure on my part. I do not like to admit this, but I'm a bit of a whore. Sex feels wonderful- even when one or more of the parties involved are a renegade animatronic.

I feel pressure on the back of my head as Bonnie breathlessly guides my attention back to him once Freddy starts at a demanding pace. I continue sucking as Bon Bon, now fufilling the role as the screamer of our triad, moans with every exhale. I snort in amusement and attempt to see what other noises he made, pressing and sucking here and there until he snapped his length down my throat with his hips with a keen of bliss. I just barely free him from my mouth as I bear down on my own jaw and sink to the floor with a growl of pain, my rear end remaining diligently raised as Freddy ground and thrust away. Without looking, I reach up and fondle Bonnie while I recover, focused more so on the way that Freddy enjoyed changing his pace often, leaving me with nothing to build my climax on. I try to match his pace, but he changes again, and I let my head hit the floor, my frustration noticed.

The hand on my head returns once I get my bearings, and now I focus my attention on the head of Bonnie's cock. Bonnie only lasted a short time more, shuddering and releasing with a breathless cry. I take as much of him as I can bear, coating the roof of my mouth and the back of my throat in a thick layer of, what I hoped to be, nontoxic robot jizz. Swallowing, I rest my head on the junction of the purple rabbit's hip, using him as a fuzzy pillow to prop my head up. 

As if reading my mind, Freddy grasped my hips harder than he had been and increased his pace, the sounds of my fleshiness colliding with his harder features growing louder with every moment. My legs begin to quake harder than ever, and now that my own mouth is free of bunny cock, I pant and beg. I make stupid, sexy promises, like the deserving slut I am. This only earns me a swift slap on the ass cheek, and a ragged "Shut the fuck up". I content myself with nuzzling into Bonnie's groin area again, my body enveloped in liquid ecstasy.

Again, my body starts to melt down, white hot pleasure burning through my veins. I clench. Freddy's hips falter in surprise, his own release coming soon after mine, the pistioning of his massive dick to climax enough to completely knock me of my senses. He hilts himself in me one last time, his cock twitching as he filled me up. The heat makes my head spin. It spreads though my abdomen as he pulls out, leaving my plundered lower half at peace. I collapse onto my side, fucked senseless, and could only stare up as I noticed Freddy and Bonnie's additional limbs had vanished into their suits. I groan weakly.

I scarcely feel my bonds loosen, and I sit up automatically, rooted to the ground in reemerging fear. "You should get your clothes back on, it's nearly six." Bonnie says, nodding cheerily.

"What are you talking about?" I wail incoherently, "I don't need clothes! You're going to stuff me in a suit and kill me now!" They look at me wryly, as if in on the joke. I suddenly realize that I have heard and carried on a conversation, been bound by, and then fucked senseless with a bunch of seven foot tall mascots.

"When did the 1950's get the technology to achieve sentience?!" Chica stepped up to answer, a hand propped on her hip as she retrieved her kitchen knife. "We were given an upgrade prior to the last resturant opening. One of the night guards who shall remain unnamed, upgraded that upgrade and added some new features. The sentience has been part of our programming for quite some time." She glanced over to Foxy, who now limped from the West Hall looking shaken up. He must have been knocked senseless for quite some time. That explains his abnormal behavior.

I glance at Freddy for answers. "When we first discovered our new upgrades, we eventually made a game of it- 'See who can get into the night guard's office and rail them for fun'. Usually, the night guard finds himself a new job, moves to the day shift, or in a few cases, makes a game of it- The last one is always the best." As I am described the kinky fuck-game they have so cleverly invented, I note the time on the large clock hanging above the main dining area's security camera. "It's almost six." I breathe, glancing at Freddy, my head shaking somewhat in confusion.

"Will we be seeing you tonight?" Freddy asks, as if making a business offer. Well, it certainly changed things. If running out of power meant spending the rest of the night as a living, breathing cock holster, there were many jobs that payed less for longer hours and less pleasing work. I weave from foot to foot, musing on the decision. I wonder if Scott or Vincent ever played by these rules, or if they even played at all. I'm a kinky motherfucker, so I know exactly which choice to make.

I grin.

"You will be seeing me, catching me is another story."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've noticed my chapters aren't as long as I'd like them to be, so my next updates will be slightly slower so that I can add more and give you guys a satisfying read!


	3. I Didn't Sign Up For This!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last "short" chapter of mine. There's a plot beyond here, I swear! Thank you for the hits and the kudos though! I love that people like it~

The months trickle by with little occurrence. I continue my job as the night guard at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. I more often than not preserve my power through the night, and on occasion, after spending an ungodly amount of time succeeding night by night, I am ambushed and subsequently handled by whomever is my captor. I spend many of the nights tied in several restrictive positions, wondering where in the history of the world, had Bonnie learned to handle rope?

On this night, I feel particularly in good spirits. I fiddle around with the candy wrapper between my fingers and pay close attention to the cameras. The pizzeria lay quiet for all of yesterday thanks to the season's largest holiday. Last night had been one of my best days yet, springing from door to door with enough skill to keep my fuzzy attackers at bay. I thank Scott for his ingenious scheme of checking the cameras only with the east door closed.

With just Foxy and Bonnie to keep watch on at those times, I train my cam on Pirate's Cove and then drop my tablet to cycle the light on the West Hall. Foxy visits more often than ever, but even then I laugh in mirth as he hammers the door. I spend the last few minutes burning off the extra power, stripping into nothing but my birthday suit as I strut around, taunting my unsuccessful foes. When six am rolls around, I dress, wish Scott and Vincent a good day, and head to the door a little early to give them some alone time before Scott needs to lock up behind me.

I saunter into the party room and take a peek behind the stage curtains. Usually the animatronics are in their places, ready for another day of music and laughter. I do not expect a brown paw to scoop me up until it is too late. I stumble onto the stage, caught by my forearm.

"Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, a magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life." Freddy booms, and I start to laugh nervously. "Good morning Freddy!" I say in my best showmanship voice, acting as if I were one of the day staff. I expect him to release me, but after a few moments of tense silence, I realize that something is very much amiss.

"C'mon Freddy, I have to go. There's a lot to do today! The kids will be here soon and you and the band need to prepare!" Unconvinced, Freddy leaned in, his eyes narrowed sadistically. "You do know what today is, correct?" He asked quietly, a wry smile on his lips. I blanch. Fuck.

"Christmas."

 

\----------------------------

 

The backstage cameras had been crowned in another pair of my shredded underclothes- a frail method of keeping the game a secret from my possibly-in-on-it-all-regardless counterparts. Bonnie had performed another of his seemingly impossible rope tricks, leaving me tied precariously to one of the brackets that holds the lighting for the show stage.

I dance on my tiptoes to relieve the strain on my arms, watching as Freddy and Bonnie stand before me, arms crossed as they chat with one another. I am drenched in sweat and more sensitive parts of me throb with repeated use and abuse. Several bruises litter my body, most of them bite marks or fingerprints from being held up whilst thrusting. My thighs and rump are a bright red.

"What more could we possibly do, Freddy? As much as I want to, I can't bear taking down such a lovely present without knowing what to do with it next. Bonnie perks up as I whine softly, my arches aching. I lower just a little, but my arms hurt even worse, so I resume my shuffling movements, holding one leg up at a time to give its brother a rest. As if struck by inspiration, which seems to be the norm for him, Bonnie snapped his fingers and fixed a mischievous look my way.

"I've got it!" He says, advancing on me. Freddy follows and lifts me up, placing me on the junction between his furry belly and his arousal, the erect shaft spreading my cheeks. Amazingly, I stay put, and the tension gives as Bonnie cuts the ropes. The moment my wrists are free and my feet touch the floor, I slip free and shoot off of the stage and down the hall towards the restrooms. I bolt into the separate employee bathroom and wait until I hear two sets of feet pound into the public stalls. My chance has arrived! Salvation! I race back into the main dining area and into the kitchen, where I am greeted with wonderful silence. Chica is no where to be found!

I lay low, squeezed beneath the food preparation stations for a few hours until Chica wanders in at last. Asleep at the time, I am unaware of what transpires until I hear the clatter of pots and pans. Like a spooked cat I bolt into the main party area, which is uninhabited, then to Pirate's Cove, seeking shelter behind the curtains. As I dive beneath the raised stage inside, I become aware of a glint of gold in my peripheral vision. 

Fuck.

Within moments of me coming to rest, Foxy's head devours the last of the light that filters into Pirate's Cove, his eyes glowing. "Ahoy there! Who dares disturb Captain Foxy in his Pirate's Cove!" I crawl out from my hiding place once more and stare at him, not in the mood to play the animatronic's fucked up game. I give the twitchy fox a panicked look and hiss quietly. "It's the night guard, Foxy. You know-" I back up as he brandishes his hook.  
"That's CAPTAIN Foxy to ye, naive!" I balk and nod in understanding, trying to play by his rules so that I remain unruffled for just a few more hours. When I think he's through with his charade, I crawl out from under the stage and put my hands on my hips, exasperated.

"Well?" I ask. Foxy narrowed his eyes and brandishes his hook. "En guarde!" He swipes at me this way and that with his VERY real metal hook until I turn away to run, but I trip over myself and land face first on the stage with an audible oomph. I lie still for a few short moments as Foxy studies me, holding his ground. No pounding feet to be heard, I relax, but when I glance behind me and there's- I... Well. I don't even react to the odd dicks any more. I simply let my head drop to the stage with a soft thud and swallow my exasperation with my pride. Fuck, can't I just catch one damn break?!

Foxy is on me without words, his tip easing into my reddened entrance. I swear that stupid Freddy had lube for semen, as Foxy slips in with little friction and proceeds to pound into me with wild abandon. I arch my weary back and feel him gather me close to his chest. From this position, the non pointed portion of his hook digs into my abdomen. I don't dare squirm, less catch myself on that very real metal edge. As much as I'd love a break from my job, I have no intentions of being disemboweled to get a vacation.

Unlike Bonnie and Freddy, Foxy cums several times in short succession, and when it seems he may be satisfied, he snaps into me harder, trying to force the knot at the base of his dick inside of me. His semen is hot enough to make my toes curl in exhausted bliss, and although it is uncomfortable, the slight stretching as his attempts fail make me see stars. 

When I am so tired that I can barely resist, Foxy withdraws, rolls me to my back, and pulls me up against him, our chests brushing as he stands upright with me impaled on his length. My body grinds down on the last few flared inches that I couldn't possibly fit, relishing the sensation. I throb around Foxy when he stops his violent pace, my body relaxing as he pulls me as close as he could, seemingly appeased. When felt as if I could go no further, I do. I sink another two or so inches suddenly with a pop, my walls twitching in over-stimulation. What th-

"THE FUCK FOXY?!" I shout, my voice shrill as he tries to pull me free, with no avail. Realizing what he has accomplished, The pirate throws his hook in the air, his little eye patch flying up with it as he 'Yaaar's' in victory. I do not share his enthusiasm.

Foxy proudly struts from his stage with his hands on his hips. I cling to him, my feet digging into the edges of his hip plates as every shift sends a jolt of pleasure through my body. He glances at the camera, or perhaps the clock? As I follow his gaze, I not that it is just past seven in the evening, and I shut my eyes in dread, wishing it were later. He hurries behind the curtain.

"Ahoy Admiral Fazbear! I have come with a treasure from faraway lands!" The pirate crows. I shut my eyes and thump my head on his metal chest, trying to pull myself free feebly with little success.

"What is it Foxy?" Freddy grumbles, as if my disappearance had put a bad taste in the bear's mouth. As he comes into view, I see Freddy's eyes light up, literally. "That looks like a scallywag if I ever say so myself." He says, playing along with Foxy's game. "We can take that slimy thing off your hook, if you so desire, for a few gold pieces."

The fox pauses, then shrugs, looking down at me with a toothy grin- The choice was obvious. "Aye, gold it is. I banish ye to Admiral Fazbear and Commodore Bonnie, scallywag!" Foxy leans down and I disentangle from him with a satisfying pop, whatever lubricants he emitted sloshing messily from within. The hand off is simple, and within minutes I wish I had begged for the good Captain's graces.

This time, I am not suspended from anything. My hands are behind my back and fastened to my thighs. Funnily enough, so are my ankles. I balance on my hipbones enough to sit upright, and the games continue as planned.

"Well now, that makes it twice that you've wriggled loose. This really is a troubling pattern I see forming. There's must be something we can do." Freddy says as he approaches, toppling me onto my back with a casual prod of his foot to my shoulder. I stare up helplessly as he cranes down, but as he does, I notice something dangling from his hand. It's a whip.

 

\----------------------------

 

Hours later, I lurch into the office covered in rope burns and sport a noticeable limp. Scott quirks a brow, befuddled, but as he opens his mouth to speak, I throw my hand up. "No. Don't ask." I glare daggers at Vincent as he fights back hysterical laughter. They both know what happened, but are either too embarrassed or threatened with violence to say what runs rampant in their imaginations.

We don't speak of Christmas again.


	4. The Ballad of Earl Grey and Chamomile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am back home after working more overtime than any employee could ever ask for. Knowing my luck, I won't be able to walk tonight, but not for the reasons I assume as I return to my apartment.

By the time I thankfully stumble back into my apartment, 24 hours later than intended, the first thing my mind wants, no- needs- is sleep. I pad down the hallway, but the moment I turn into my bedroom and breathe a relaxed sigh, I feel a wet sensation of dubious origin in my pants. I continue turning as I swallow a strangled screech, and dash to the bathroom, my clothes gone faster than they had vanished Christmas morning.

I fall into the tub none-too-gracefully, kicking the tap on while simultaneously reaching for the nearest bath bomb in arm's reach to perch on the tub's rim. Yes, this was a much better alternative- two birds, one stone- go me. As the bath filled, I scrubbed myself clean- some places more than others- and drained the tub of the soiled water. Once deemed clean enough, I replace the plug with my toes, toss the bath bomb towards my feet and try to recount just what had occurred over the past day and a half locked inside Freddy Fuckhead's Emporium of Erotic Robotics.

First of all, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza can barely sustain itself on its usual schedule. On federal holidays, the Scott comes in like a fucking idiot, trashed sometimes, shuts both doors once the main power is up, and sleeps. I would know, he told me himself yesterday night when I came to take my watch. He already had an easy job working the day shift, but if he didn't have to use all of the power, like an asshole, maybe I wouldn't be in this mess.

That means on top of it all that the cameras go unwatched until I go relieve him and actually stand my post. As much as Scott knew about the animatronics, he had two heavy doors at his disposal and as much power as he wanted. Pretty much, the place becomes a public hazard to health and safety under the guise of actually being secured for 12 hours on holidays. For that reason, I knew the above facts were true because the animatronics practically ran a train on me for that very reason.

Not wishing to linger on the last thirty-six hours, I pop an Advil and head to bed.

 

\------------------------------------

 

Several hours into the best sleep of my life, the doorbell rings. I roll out of bed and crawl to my front door, letting it swing open. "What do you- Okay, I'm calling the police." I growl, glaring down Vincent as he beamed nervously. "I was sent by Scott, no lies! He gave me your apartment number from your application so I can check on you!" He leaned in as if to enter, but I keep my hand firmly on the door frame. "What do you want then?" I ask, guardedly.

Vincent lifts his hand, revealing a plastic bag. "I brought you some food, if that makes anything better. Scott wanted me to take care of you because you looked like death when you came in to take on the night shift." I let him in. In reflection, I wonder why, but I assume that Vincent isn't a complete scumbag capable of anything more than running his mouth. He plops down the paper and plastic shopping bag on my counter and pulls out a can of soup. I turn my nose up. "You're an ass." I glower.

"What?" He shows no sign of offense, that ever present grin right where it always is.

"Its like a scene out of a rom-com. You show up at my door with soup. Next scene, the chapel!" I swoon dramatically and lean onto Vincent, catching my balance as he sidles over to the microwave, using a clean bowl propped on top and the can opener beside it to prepare my lunch. He is quiet, trying not to slice himself, but as the can pops open, he puts his hand on his hip and smirks my way, pouring the can of tomato soup in as sexily as he can manage, cheesy hip shimmy included.

"Better than an opening of a bondage porno." He quips in return. I stay quiet, wounded, and lean back on the counter. Touche.

As the microwave hums quietly, then chirps in completion, I hear the sound of ceramic on glass, and then I smell it. "That's better than I expected. I waaant." Vincent chuckles at my childish whine and sets the bowl down. "Wouldn't this be better enjoyed on the couch though?" He asked, his head motioning towards my little living room attached to the kitchenette. I nod, too tired to fight, and plop onto the couch. I drag half of the massive throw blanket over my lower two thirds and pester Vincent to come join me. 

He relents until a bag of popcorn is popped, then saunters over. "I'm not your slave." He says playfully. "You are taking care of me though, right?" He snorts in amusement and plops down at the other half, doing the same. He flicks on the TV and we bicker over nonsense until we find a movie we agree on. Soup and popcorn long devoured by then, I snuggle up to my side of the couch, my eyes growing heavy with the meal in my belly.

I'm just about to fall back asleep when I feel movement. I figure Vincent's foot must have fallen asleep, so I don't open my eyes. When I feel pressure near my groin, I bolt up partially out of discomfort. I was sore everywhere south of my neck, and for a moment I thought I was back at work again. I look down to see Vincent's feet sticking up from the other side of the blanket. I lift the cover and catch him in the act, a pocket knife partially stuck in the waistband of my shredded sleeping attire.

He flicks his wrist, not breaking eye contact, and pulls what was left of my favorite night pants out from under me. "I glad that I took you for the kind to go commando when you sleep." Vincent chuckled, running his hand from the crease of my groin over my need and down my thigh. I suck in a sharp breath, forgetting my trashed trousers. I was already starting to drip, my hormones already abuzz as they returned to life.

"Look at you-" He grimaces now, studying the bruises on my thighs. "Y'know, they've done it to me too. That's before they kicked up the amount of power we could use a night." I feel my arousal falter a little. "Even back then?" I ask, wanting to know more. I splay my legs a bit so that Vincent nestles between them, the friction sending unbearably good vibrations through my body.

Vincent nodded and traced little patterns in my skin. "These current upgrades piggybacked off of an older one. Some sicko in the 70's wanted to live a fantasy, so when the night guard post opened, he took it and used the time to give the animatronics extra 'equipment'. This was before the animatronics started to act funny. When they were tampered with, the aggression affected the... Other coding he had written." He leans in and nibbles my hips and I realize that he is finished talking. "But what about Scott?" I ask. Vincent bites down harder until I gasp. He crawls up my body, and at once I feel his arousal against my thigh and belly.

"I never said we were together, did I?" I stare stupidly at him and then it clicks. 

He moves slowly to gently to kiss up my neck, and for a moment, I lose my breath. We wriggle around, bicker some more, and then get down to the business of liberating Vincent of his clothing. I have no remorse for Scott at this time. I didn't for Vincent either. If they had warned me about the animatronics in the first place, I would have known better. I wouldn't have walked away from the job, but I would have been much more prepared- Mentally and physically.

I guess I don't feel bad either because, in a sense, we're all in that same boat. I don't dare to ask either of them in detail if they had similar experiences, as I feel like they've sworn to take that secret to the grave just as I have. If Vincent had suffered the same treatment, surely Scott-? It's no wonder the three of us got along so well, we live in the same nightmare.

The moments his clothes vanish, Vincent takes of a noticeably more dominant role and claims my lips, dragging his teeth over my lower lip until my mouth falls open with a soft gasp. He takes advantage of the moment to kiss the taste of tomato soup from my tongue, and I stifle a laugh as I taste popcorn. As he pulls away, I bite down on his lip, still twittering in amusement. "You taste like butter." I snicker through my teeth, appreciating the acknowledging roll of Vincent's brown eyes as he breaks free of my mouth and dips down to nip at my earlobe.

I drag one of his hands to my mouth, simultaneously lubricating his fingers and lighting a fire in his belly, which he happily displays by grinding against my groin. The friction is unbelievably good, and within moments, I'm begging him to stop teasing me. He presses a digit into me and I spread my legs for him and groan in desire, my head tossed back against the arm of the couch as my fingers link around the nape his neck. As much as I want his mouth on me, I can't manage the words, but he knows. I fight to form my request, only managing to whimper his name, which he deems enough to continue.

When he dips his head lower, I arch my hips so far off the couch cushions that Vincent forces my body back down, giving me no reprieve until I hold myself in place. He grins. "If you move, I stop." He declares suddenly, and for a moment it takes for me to process what he's saying before I nod. When I look at Vincent with a pleading, yet compliant expression, he relishes my yearning and ghosts his breath over me, my eyes fluttering shut.

When the heat washes over me, it takes every inch of my being to keep my ass planted on the couch. I whimper like a bitch in heat, squirming, but never letting my feet brace into the upholstery until I lose control of my senses. It's then that Vincent presses two fingers into me and crooks them until I cum almost violently, his name falling from my lips in a constant deluge.

Within moments of my climax has me on my back, three fingers hilted in my body and thrusting with such an intensity that I have to shove my fist into my mouth to stifle a scream. Another orgasm hits just as intensely as the first. When I shakily remove my knuckle from between my lips, I know I'll be bruised for some time. The moment I come down from my intense high, it all hits me at once. "I want you." I whisper at first. Vincent, keen on making me see stars, draws back, halting his motions to focus on my words.

"What?" He asks, confused. I look him straight in the eyes, the seriousness in my tone almost sobering. "I said, 'I. Want. You'." He studies my face for a few moments, then huffs a short, breathy laugh. "Glad we're in agreement." He removes his fingers and replaces it with something I like more, our bodies coming together intimately to the point that I see why people wonder where one body ends and the other begins. He kisses me and I drag my tongue over his lips, his own easily dominating me once he starts thrusting.

Outside of work, the lack of bonds allows me to grip and play with whatever I want. I amuse myself by dragging my nails up and down Vincent's back as he grinds into me. He rumbles in pleasure and rewards me with several deep thrusts, my mind reeling in delight. A few minutes later, I wriggle free and watch his confused and disgruntled expression with my own amused grin. 

"What is it, squirt?" He asks, his voice husky with lack of breath. He reaches for me, but I press him to his back, emboldened by my freedom to move as I'd like. Brow quirked, it doesn't hit him until I swing a leg over his hips and raise myself up, teasing him by taking just the tip until his hands grasp my thighs. He savors the sensation for a moment before he growls in desire and pulls me forcefully down the entire length of him, the shock of pleasure enough to leave me breathless. I assume he feels the same way because the resulting string of words that fall from his lips would make a whore blush. I could eat it up all day and night, just as long as he was the one doing the talking.

Fighting the urge to turn us over once more so that he could rail me until I couldn't walk, I lift myself off of him, withdrawing his cock partially out of me. As I straighten up, his fingers twitch, burying so hard into the flesh of my ass that I know his fingerprints will bruise for much longer than he anticipated. I sink back down, slower this time, and come back to rest against the base of his dick. The feeling of it all leaves us motionless for a long minute, too caught up in the sensations to move until my hips twitch and I slowly grind down into him instinctively with enough urgency to catch his attention. 

"You might as well roll over now if you're just gonna tease the shit out of me." He rumbles. When our eyes meet, I lose my breath at the look of absolute lust in his face, his eyes dark, and his lips pulled into a pleased smirk. I want to bite those lips and kiss him with such ferocity that our teeth click together in that sloppy aggression that you only see in porn flicks and read about in a preteen's fantasy fanfiction. As tacky as it seems, it just suits us. We reek of sarcasm on a normal day, and it's no surprise that we drag it into bed.

"I think I like it better from this angle." I quip back, arching my back until I can feel every delicious inch of his skin on mine. "You look good on the bottom." I almost lose focus as he grinds up into me and pinches one of my nipples hard between his fingers, my teeth abusing my poor lip as I swallow down a moan. 

"Say that again?" He asks, twisting the nub of hardened flesh until I could barely form a cohesive sentence. Satisfied, Vincent places his arms behind his head and fixes his attention on me, as if expecting for me to continue on my own. I huff, place his hands back on my hips, and brace on my knees.

The moment we find a rhythm to work off of, I can feel him melt beneath me, our hips meeting stroke for delicious stroke in a muddle of dirty noises. Vincent has his eyes trained on mine, his ever-present smile vanishing only when I clench a little, dissolving him into hungry panting as I tease the shit out of him. Fed up with my behavior, Vincent reaches up to grasp my shoulders and rolls me back beneath him, taking over to satisfy his growing need. His thrusts are relentless and neither of us can keep remotely quiet, growling, groaning, and moaning simply because we could- that and I can tell he enjoys the way my voice trembles when he hits that sweet spot that makes my toes curl.

When Vincent snaps his hips into me just right, I fall apart, tensing my body so hard that he too climaxes, our bodies tightly clenched in a sexual death grip. He glances down, then looks at me. "I swear I'm clean." He says, betraying a little concern around his usual snark. I snort and arch my back so that I could shove my foot in his face, hooking my toe under his jaw. 

"I am too, so I don't know what you're bitching about." He friskily bites my ankle and we separate in favor of wrestling around on the couch until I'm the one pinning Vincent, although I doubt he tried hard to resist. Once we are satisfied, I watch him go toward my bathroom, his expression back to its usual shit-eating grin when he glances over his shoulder. I let my eyes roll back and I pass out for a short while, rousing when Vincent returns. 

"What time is it?" I ask. Vincent glances over at my wall clock, taking a moment to process my question. "It's seven." He eventually replies, and I put the blanket over my head. "Wake me up at eleven and I'll be ready in ten." I mumble. He shakes his head and pulls me off the couch. 

"Go to bed." He commands, and I relent only because my bed is much more comfortable. As I crawl in, he follows after me, hops into my bed, and throws the sheets over our naked bodies. I take one look at him and shift closer, wanting to tangle into that mess of musk and sexiness until we could no longer determine whose limbs are whose. I rub my cheek into his chest.

"I fucking hate you." I say after a few quiet minutes. He chuckles and shakes his head, pulling me closer so that when he curls around me, his nose is pressed into the hairs at the base of my neck.

"Whatever you say, squirt."


	5. Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I keep getting this feeling I was put in this position for a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for waiting everybody! I felt bad not writing smut for this chapter, so I added some in, which is why this took so long. I hope you enjoy!

Hours later after the sun had fallen, we trot outside only to be buffeted by the cold December air. We flee to our cars in search of warmth, slamming our doors shut in a hurry to turn on the heat and get going. Vincent's car hums to life within seconds. I turn the key and my baby groans and whirs, but refuses to start. "Shit!" I thump the steering wheel with both fists. Vincent stops his car mid-reverse out his his adjacent spot and parks back beside mine, rolling the window down. "It won't start!" I shout, frustrated.

"Don't worry about it right now. Just get in." He says, and we both ride in his car back to work. As we walk into the building, I linger by the little heater vent to warm up. "Sorry Scott, had some car troubles on the way back." Vincent crows as he strode past the main stage and down the hallway. I hear the shuffle of movement behind the curtains as a blue eye peeks out at me, both curious and devious at the the time. I pretend to not hear a gentle catcall from backstage and nearly leap from my skin as I avoid a grasping paw.

I spook and walk quickly to catch up to Vincent as he hurries toward the office. Scott pokes his head out of the open door to meet Vincent's hungry lips. Any other person would feel a twinge of jealousy, except not in this case. I trot away down the West Hall and push myself into their hug, laughing. "This qualifies as PDA, keep it for after hours." I chrip, bumping my hip into Vincent's hard enough that he parts from Scott with a huff. I enter into Scott's still open arms and laugh victoriously.

"Whose car?" Scott asks, somewhat distracted now that I've inserted myself into his "bubble".

"Mine." I reply. "The stupid thing wouldn't start. I'll have to get it looked at tomorrow." I cringe as I hear my own words- Not much sleep yet again, but at least it was for a decent reason. Vincent nodded in affirmation as I pulled back from Scott and plopped down into the seat. He put his hand on my shoulder and spun me around to get my full attention. "I'll take you back to your place in the morning." I swallow a protest, knowing that not only could I not trust him to trail after me into my apartment, I couldn't trust myself not to leave the door wide open.

"Just no movies tomorrow. I want to sleep as much as I can around getting my car looked at if I have to take it in or call somebody out there." Vincent seemed slightly put off, but as I grab my tablet, his smile returns. "You two get going- It's dangerous to walk around this shit hole after midnight." I say this to encourage them to leave so that perhaps I can drink my first Monster in peace, but they stare at me like I'm an idiot. "Oh, we know." Scott said teasingly."We know." Vincent grins, acting like last night's sobering exchange had been accompanied by its own laugh track. Then again, we had wrapped up the conversation in a rousing game of "hide the zucchini" before crashing into slumber.

I tsk. "Not like that, fuckers. I want to save as much of my power as I can." I muse the idea over out loud, cradling my jaw in my hand dramatically. "I'm planning to shut both doors for the last hour if I have enough juice left and start on my sleep." They blanch. "You're joking?" Scott asks, genuinely shocked, his hands clenched tight. "You're just asking for it now." Vincent laughs nervously, trying to play off whatever tension now hung between us. "Just try it. I dare you." He continues, but there is no joking in his voice. I'm have no intentions of messing with my power tonight. Perhaps tomorrow night, after dealing with my car problems so that I could get more wonderful sleep after the fact.

"Fine. Not tonight." I sigh. They linger at the door to the building for as long as they can bear before we all go to our places: Vincent and Scott to their apartment, and I to my chair.

The night goes well enough, but I wonder the whole while about why they were so hesitant to shut the door for so long. Was it really something that bad?

 

\------------------------------

 

Vincent and Scott come in the next morning, shocked to see me laughing. "I did it!" I cry, throwing my hands up. "I still had 30% power by the time six hit! I'm ready for Freddy!" They swap amused glances as Scott and I trade chairs. "Go get some sleep!" Scott smiles as Vincent and I sidle out of the office and back to his car. As we pull out of the parking lot and onto the road home bound, he turns to speak. "Let me look." He says, preoccupied with merging into traffic as he gets onto the highway. I stare at him blankly at first, then shake my head, glaring at him until he glances over at me for a response, notices my scowl, and reaches over and puts his hand in my face.

"Not your body, dumbass, your car! I work with them from time to time, you could have something as simple as a shitty loose terminal or your battery's fucked." I scoff and nibble on the meat of Vincent's palm until he pulls his hand away, his smirk telling. "I-I know that! I know cars too- I would know if it were that!" He grins at my flustered hiss, well aware that I had other things on my mind than my car. "Well, you were going to be late yesterday, so we never checked in the first place, did we?" He glances down the road, minding traffic. "Here- I bet you breakfast that it's either the battery or the terminal." I nod in agreement, determined he is wrong in every sense. "Fine." I reply, settling into silence as we head back to my apartment.

 

\-------------------------------------

 

No sooner had Vincent proved me wrong, I huff and stomp back into my apartment, Vincent in hot pursuit with a small bag of McMuffins and a hot coffee. He follows me into the kitchen, his grin wider than ever as I fish the money from my change jar and pay him for our meal. We tuck into our breakfast quietly, partially because I am salty from losing a bet, and also because working the might shift rouses a ravenous appetite.

Hunger satisfied, I automatically go to the bathroom to complete my morning ritual. As I strip, I wonder where I had left my modesty, and conclude that I had it stolen from me in the ninth grade as I sink into the tub to clean myself. Vincent reappears as I refill the bath again following my normal cleaning procedure. "Grab me one of those bath bombs." I yawn, kicking the tap closed as the water just barely reaches the rim of the tub. I shut my eyes and sink into the hot water for a soak.

Vincent glances over at the pile of chalky shapes and plucks one up. Without a word, he drops the little bomb into the water. We watch in amusement as the little floating clump putters and fizzes around the tub, soon dissipating into the water, dyeing it a shade of. "God damn it, Vincent." I sit up a little and glare at him jokingly. My bathwater is now a stunning shade of purple. "What can I say, it looks good on you." I roll my eyes. "You're lucky I like lavender." I reply dryly, soaking in the bath as we talk about meaningless nonsense. We go as far as palming one another between quips, our bodies more than ready to go. I would have invited him in, but by the time it crossed my mind, the tenting of his pants required more urgent care than I could ever hope to accomplish in the bath.

"You didn't want me staying, don't you remember?" Vincent asks innocently as he withdraws his hand. I feel empty, but I sit there wondering what had possessed me to say that. The water is lukewarm in comparison to my flushed skin, and I slosh the bubbles around in the tub with my feet for a moment before stating, with all intents and purposes-

"Fuck it."

And so we do.

The moment I step from the tub and wrap my body in a fluffy towel, Vincent picks me up and crushes my mouth to his, his tongue running across my bottom lip until I open my mouth and deepen the kiss. By the time we hit the bed, I don't even care that I am wet from the bath. He looms over me and I grasp at his neck to drag more lazy kisses from his lips, laughing at his eagerness to undo his belt and get just as bare as I am. 

"Come on, slowpoke." I giggle, running my fingers through his oddly colored hair until he unzips his trousers and wriggles free, dragging his boxers along with him. Vincent's shirt is much easier to doff, and the moment he is fully unclothed, he grinds against me with gusto, smearing traces of precum onto my skin, which only makes me more crazy for him. We both reek of desire, feeding off of one another's lust as we kiss, suck, and bite.

At one point, I plead for him to get it over with and fuck me senseless, like we both want, but he instead draws back, fetches a bottle of lube from my bedside table, and coats his fingers in a liberal amount, each digit glistening as the lubrication runs down his knuckles and the back of his hand. I want him more than I want to breathe now, my lips parted in a daze as he takes his sweet time, the throbbing of my lower half enough that I swear my heart has settled down happily in my groin.

When the digits vanish from view, I lay back and arch, moaning softly as Vincent presses two fingers into me. He pumps them shallowly at first, increasing in depth and speed over a few torturous minutes until I am lightheaded and practically singing his praises. When it feels like I'm about to come undone, Vincent pulls his fingers away and sits up on his knees, glowering down at his handiwork as I make sense of what had happened to the glorious orgasm I had been moments away from. 

Needing more of him, I reach up and run my fingers down the lengths of both of Vincent's sleeves, able to feel the minute bumps in his skin where his tattoos had scarred and the little patches of unmarred skin. As much as I am a wimp with needles, I've always wanted a tattoo, and it hits me that even the art on his skin makes me want him more. Noticing my interest shifting away from 'bumping uglies', my purple-haired companion crooks his elbows and lowers down onto me, competing with his own body art for my attention by kissing the breath from me until I am dizzy with need.

"I'll buy you one for you birthday." Vincent murmurs, his voice husky as he nibbles my lips. As much as I am spooked by the prospect of having tiny needles stabbed into my skin, I can't bear to turn him down, and the exhilaration only makes me tremble. "Sure- Whenever we get the time." I promise, reaching down to steer the conversation back in my desired direction. He smirks and leans in, biting down on my neck low enough that it would be covered by the collar of my work shirt, but just barely. "My name would look wonderful on your skin, squirt." He mumbles, the vibrations warming my heart and my loins. I laugh and rock against his rutting dick, the head just barely entering with every movement.

"That would be so, but I already have an idea: I'd get a-" I don't finish my complete thought, my mind running wild as Vincent thrusts into me, his entire length down to the hilt buried so deep in my body that I can't tell where he ends and I begin. As I pull my thighs to my chest to gather more of his hot skin into me, he hooks the crooks of his arms behind my knees and rocks against my body, both of our breaths coming short. He flattens me beneath him, and as he starts thrusting, I feel like I could lose it from the very start. As we settle on a pace, one of my hands trails down to touch myself, and every so often I catch Vincent gawking, as if unable to tear his eyes off the sight of himself deftly sliding into me with little resistance while I gladly paw at my own desire with an expression of utter lust.

When he fixes his gaze on mine, I find myself teetering on the edge of a delicious climax, dangerously looming over the side as I wait for that one thrust to bring me to my end. Instead, my purple-haired companion slows his pace and releases my legs, preferring to drag me on at his own discretion. From this angle I can kiss him again, and had we been in different circumstances, perhaps this would be the perfect 'I love you' moment. I know for a fact we 'make love' for quite some time, meandering through the gentle tingling that it brings until I feel as if hours had passed and my body is synonymous with his in movement and pleasure.

When it feels as if we have finally calmed down to a stopping point, Vincent rocks back, grasps one of my legs behind the knee, and turns me on my right side. I glance over at him, slightly dazed and very much confused until he wraps his arms around my raised leg and resumes his normal routine of plowing into me until I swear I won't be able to walk again. The pace comes as a shock to my system, and I nearly choke on my gasp of ecstasy. I can feel myself coming undone much more quickly than I had before, my body reacting to every grinding motion and snap of his hips with just as frantic a reaction, my body attuned to his down to the smallest movement.

Soon enough, I feel every inch of my being contract, and I fall over the edge, forcing my knuckle into my mouth to stifle the scream. The position brings Vincent close quickly as well, but also rewards me with a decent view of my lover as he too begins that slippery slope towards his end, his head leaned against my calf. Within moments, I can feel the twitch of his dick as he too cums with a throaty rasp of my name, buried deep until he too is finished. The instant he pulls out, we don't even dare move an inch more apart, curled around one another until we both fall into a rewarding sleep.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

The next few days come and go, more hazy than not in most cases. I possess a skill with the doors that not only amuses my coworkers, but literally keeps my ass safe from what lingers at my windows. When Scott comes to relieve me of my duties with Vincent in tow, we chatter back and forth like a bunch of lovestruck teenagers, and some of the time I do not venture back to apartment alone.

There is even talk of Scott taking a short vacation, which is only possible due to his position on the day shift, so that we could all spend the daytime hours together for a week or so. As much as I would like to say it is for purely platonic reasons, I would be lying if we hadn't mused over the idea of a threesome. Scott takes most of our playful advances in stride, but more often than not we wheedle out a side of our friend that makes me wish his time off would start tomorrow. If only the next few days would fly away!


	6. Free the Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you came here for the happy smut, turn back now and never return.

With Scott's 'vacation' approaching fast, I feel cocky and carefree now. It is four in the morning and I still have almost fourty percent of my power. I muse the close calls of the nights prior and calculate that if I were to shut both of my doors and not touch the cameras, I would just barely survive the night unruffled. I decide to commit, brushing off the earlier warnings from Scott and Vincent not to. I want to sleep. Now. Perhaps even a little fun in the morning would help wake me up. Two birds, one stone- go me. I shut both of the doors and plop back into my chair, my head propped upon my crossed arms. I scoot the chair a little farther from the desk to straighten out my back and shut my eyes for some well deserved rest.

No sooner had the doors shut and I had drifted into a gentle snooze, I awoke to my chair being completely ripped out from under me. It clattered against the opposite wall as I screamed myself awake and instinctually wedged myself under my desk. I stare at the lower half of an animatronic, realizing in horror that both of my doors are still shut. "How the fuck did it get in here?" I breathe to myself, fully aware that I shook so hard that I could barely control the gentle rattle of my breath. A hand comes for me with a quickness that is beyond human, latching around my neck with a deadly pressure. I open my mouth to scream, the sound strangled as the arm pulled me from my hiding spot.

As I emerge, kicking and wheezing, I notice the face of the animatronic. It is the classic Freddy Fazbear model, but its fur is a cartoonish yellow-gold rather than the usual chocolate brown. I grasp at the hand and start to sob gently in pain until I notice the lack of bulbous eyes. Rather, two pinpricks of white stared back at me. This wasn't one of the usual animatronics. This is evil. Right now, it would be a good note that I have a correction to make: Perhaps I was ready for Freddy the first time. I am certainly not ready for Freddy now. I scream and completely come undone, knowing the danger is real this time and that I may face death in a few short moments.

The golden Freddy Fazbear lifts me up by the throat and backs me up until I am flush against the door. He gropes at me through my clothing, wrenching my arms away whenever I attempt to cover up my body from his heavy hands. Temper waning, the demonic animatronic throws me to the floor. A foot connects with my ribcage and I curl up like a dying insect, wheezing in pain. When I look up, the animatronic stares down at me, soulless eyes bright with sadistic mirth.

"Strip." The baritone of his voice sounds nonhuman and I open my mouth to protest for a moment, but swallow my words with fat tears as I shamefully disrobe, afraid of the repercussions. My shirt and pants come off as slowly as I possibly can, mostly due to the fact that my hands shake so hard that every button of my work shirt takes almost half a minute to navigate. I keep my head tilted down, hoping and praying with every inch of my being that this was merely a nightmare- some sick hallucination caused by exhaustion- and that I would wake up to the clock striking six.

Once disrobed, he kicks my clothes under the desk and advances on me with such an aggression that I wonder if he is going to go they way of normal Fazbear protocol or simply slaughter me. His hands are reaching, and when he latches a massive paw on my thigh, I back into the desk, trying to think of some way to barter for my freedom. I figure that if he was an animatronic too, he'd have some sort of programming like Freddy and his friends, but my fear strangles me into silence.

I can faintly hear the pounding of fists on my door over the hammering of my heart and wonder if it was Foxy, sensing a lack of attention on his Cove, coming to investigate. 'How does it look from the outside, Foxy?' I think, leaning away enough that when my attacker advances, I topple back flat onto the desk, this satanic Freddy in quick pursuit.

I can feel him towering over me, and when he leans into me, he's heavy as sin. I thrash and kick and push, but everything I hit is hard metal. My back arches off the desk in an attempt to buck him off, hoping that maybe I could open one of the door and seek shelter somewhere else in the pizzeria. In response to my struggles, a fist connects hard into my stomach and I stop wriggling, stunned as the wind rushes out of me. The next breath dissolves into short, choking sobs as I cough in pain.

One hand snaps to my wrist and twists my upper half to one side while the other presses a thumb into me. I freeze, aware that the pounding on the door has stopped. He twists his finger and I dig my chin into my collarbone, my sounds of misery silenced once I see what he wants from me as my gaze drifts down to his groin. I bear down on my lip and turn my face away, my body wracked in tremors. In a few moments, I'm on my front with my face on the floor, my hips raised unceremoniously by one golden paw while the other thrusts into me with its thumb.

"Stay." His guttural voice rumbles against me and I obey merely to avoid more abuse.

The Golden Freddy crooks his finger in me and I jerk, the pleasure an unwelcome guest to the situation. Eventually, he removes his thumb and pushes into me with his cock, taking me with little regard to my comfort. The pressure is unwelcome, and I try to put of a fight, but every act of resistance is faced with an equally abusive response. My body is able to handle what he has to offer, but I start to cry harder, unable to determine what particular emotion guided my reaction, be it horror, fear, or embarrassment. I claw at the floor and moan in shame, begging for it to be over already.

My attacker gives me no time to savor any sensation, snapping his hips into mine with a businesslike attitude, his grunts foul in my ears. I know that at this moment, I am meant his desires and nothing more. I beg for my attacker to stop, and to let me go, but he grabs me around the throat, pulling back until I am sitting up on my knees. I grasp weakly at the paw around my throat and shake my head, unable to do much more than weep as I hear the throaty, lustful growls in my ear. He tells me what he wants to do to me- that with all intents and purposes, I would belong to no other and that if he came to me in the night, I had better be ready and willing.

He continues by threatening my friends, explaining in detail what he would do to either of them if they interfered with his fun. Every dirty action is punctuated by a sharp thrust into me, his grip growing seemingly tighter with every passing minute. He snaps his hips at an angle that shoots white hot pleasure up my spine, but I do my best to ignore it. As much as I try to flee from my consciousness and ignore the sensations, every single inch of him keeps me very much in the moment. I grit my jaw and wish it away, but my body responds the opposite, clenching around the intruding cock in a way that brings the golden Fazbear to completion.

It isn't too long after he climaxes inside of me that my heart leaps in joy. He is satisfied, I'm free! I think that once is enough and that he is done with me, but that hope soon fades as he grabs at my neck and steers me around to face him. I don't even fight, too scared to resist, my hands curling into my chest to shield my bruised ribs. He drags my head down and impales my mouth with his cock, grunting at the change of sensation as he guides my head up and down. I shut my eyes as I suck, trying to block it all out and get it over with. He draws his dick out of my mouth and clouts me in the cheek, unimpressed with my passive role. I hit the floor hard and my sobs renew with vigor, my hand slowly reaching up to cup my pounding jaw.

"Look me in the eyes when you service me." His words make me want to vomit. Head pounding, I continue again out of fear of my own life, watching those white, lifeless orbs as I attempt to stifle my sobs. My body bucks with the effort as I attempt to quiet my crying. Already satisfied once before, it takes little time for him to recover and resume a 'normal' pace, and in short time, he finishes again, pulling me from his grip to shoot his load into my face. Humiliated, I let my head fall, praying to some unknown power that perhaps now he would leave. When I think he is done, he takes hold of my arm, pulls me up to full height, and slams me to my back on the desk. He hilts himself into me and rocks against my body, sliding from tip to hilt in one smooth motion.

"Can you feel that, little one? Your body is going to be mine after this. You are going to have nothing left when I am done, you will fit only me." He rumbles, thrusting into me with wild abandon. I sob, but there are no more tears for me to cry. Every inch of my body hurts from some sort of abuse or another except my groin, which betrays the carnal pleasure that has me seeing stars. I feel his hand coming down to rub at me, his chuckles of amusement enough to make my skin crawl as his eyes bore down into mine. 

"You like this as much as I do." He huskily croons, his touch enough to drag out a whine from my lips. He presses that same thumb into me as he thrusts, creating a pressure that has my body betraying me within moments. I climax sharply and violently, much like our encounter has come about. He doesn't stop, though, pistioning into me until I finally lose sense of the situation and let my mind wander off.

\--------------------------------------

When he finishes for what seems like the hundredth time, I crumple to the floor, my lips cracked, and my entire body bruised and aching from every position and surface he steered me into to fuck me against. I leave my trembling hips up right now, expecting another round, but nothing comes. I pause for a minute, breaths shallow as I listen for any trace of my attacker returning and hesitantly glance behind me.

The office is empty.

The only evidence of Golden Freddy that remains is the obscene amount of fluids that liberally cover most of the surfaces in the office and the fat purple bruises littering my entire body. I slip the first time I move, wondering grimly if any of my bones had broken in the altercation. I am terrified to see my neck, which had been his main means of contorting my body from position to humiliating position nearly black in my reflection in the office window.

I get to my knees and crawl to the door, smashing the button to the East Hall door with my fist. I shakily stand and hold onto the wall as I limp towards the restrooms. The animatronics are no where to be seen. As I enter the main party room, I spot all four of them, in place, their eyes bright with abject horror. They broke from their stiff poses and looked almost sorry, refusing to leave the stage. The curtain to Pirate's Cove flutters shut. I couldn't guess why. Perhaps they know more than I do about what that thing is. Are they afraid of it as well?

I glance at my clock. It is five-fifty.


	7. Everything You Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is changing so quickly. One day it seems like everything has come together perfectly, then the next-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I've been super busy, but I've soldiered on and I'm hoping to have more chapters ready for release soon!

Scott comes in at six as usual with Vincent in tow, but even the normally sarcastic purple man is cowed by my state when they come upon me. "What happened?!" Scott yelps, almost frantic worry creasing his brow as he turns the corner to see me, roughed up, in my chair. My tablet lay on the desk, cold and long abandoned. I look at them with a little psychotic smile, my lower lip swollen and my neck collared in blotchy purple bruises.

"I lasted maybe ten minutes with the door shut. Thanks for warning me about Rapey the demonic Fazfuck brother." I murmur, then turn to cradle my head in my hands. I am too weary to cry. I simply stay very still and try to block out the memories and the sensations going through my mind and body. Rooted to the ground, my friends stay dolefully quiet, making several attempts to speak, their mouths opening and shutting like suffocating fish as they both search for the 'right' words.

Finally, Vincent crosses the room and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Let's get you home." He says, his tone soft and nonthreatening, yet slightly hollow, like words of love to a dead body. Scott stares around at the mess in the office, his expression unreadable, and then follows us down the hallway to the main party room, slipping us out the back door before any of the other daytime staff could see what had transpired. Vincent sits me down in the car, but I lean out enough to hear their frantic exchange.

"But you can't-" Scott pleads. I look out the backseat window and see him pressed against Vincent, pushing him towards the car as if to hurry him along.

"I can, and I will. Just for a week." Vincent replies, his tone more tense than I have ever heard it. "You can use our car and I'll take squirt's for the ti-"

"But-" Scott tries to interject again, but is silenced when our purple-haired companion raises his hand to his lips, his brows knitted.

"It's decided, Scott. I'm the best damn one at the job available, unless you want to take my place. We both know for a fact that he'd do the same to you again like he did to squirt." I watch them both glance my way, a genuine fear in Scott's eyes, and he wets his lips worriedly. 

"It's not safe at night if Goldie's doing things like that to a new guard. He'll slaughter you, Vincent. I'll take the night shift for now while we find a permanent replacement, but PROMISE ME you will not leave that room during the day."

Vincent appears hesitant, but nods, satisfied with the deal. "That I can promise." He says, then turns on his heel to take me home.

I turn towards Vincent as he stares blankly ahead at the road. He hasn't spoken a word since getting into the driver's seat and I want answers. Now. "Why is Scott taking the night shift?" I demand, the tension in my body magnifying in the dull ache of my muscles. It is only when I touch his arm that he flinches. I press him, my teeth clenched. "Vincent. Why the FUCK is Scott taking the night shift, and why is he worried about you leaving the room during the day?!"

Several seconds pass in seconds before Vincent replies, his volume low. "Scott's afraid I might kill somebody if he doesn't keep an eye on me." There is no jest in his voice, the tone flat and emotionless. I force myself to laugh, but it comes out like a cough.

"Haha, funny joke, but really-"

"I'm not joking squirt." Vincent's knuckles are white as he clenches the steering wheel. I stare at him and my jaw drops. I remove my hand quickly as if burned and stare down the road, taking several minutes to fully register what I had heard. The stories HAD been true, and after all this time- I thought I could trust him! He had been lying to me all along! In one instant, I am completely silent. The next, I lose my shit.

"What do you mean 'you could kill somebody'?! You were dropped of all charges! You didn't kill those kids, Vincent!" I frantically struggle to find some way to change the meaning of his words, repeating my response like a mantra each time he denies his innocence. When he realizes there is no getting to me, Vincent slams on the brakes, pulls over to the side of the road abruptly, and holds my face between his hands so that I cannot tear my attention away. "Look, I'm just as scared as Scott is-" He's trying to keep it together, more worry, and even fear, in his eyes than anger as he blubbers away.

"BUT YOU DIDN'T DO IT. YOU WEREN'T CONVICTED!" I shriek, trying to push the conversation from my mind and wipe away these memories I am in no means ready to make. I manifest that by pushing against his chest, trying to create distance. Unsuccessful, I grab at Vincent's wrists and try to peel his grip off of my face, but in my weakened state, it is in vain.

"JUST BECAUSE I WASN'T CONVICTED DOESN'T MEAN I DIDN'T DO IT!" Vincent bellows back. When he releases my face, I shrink away, not surprised, but hurt. I hurt all over now, and I bite back tears that cannot fall as my chest pinches painfully. My head reels. Vincent's voice softens as he sees the fear in my eyes and attempts to console me. "I'm different now, I promise- You and Scott- you both pulled me out of somewhere dark. It wasn't my fault I killed those kids. I mean- I did it, but I-." My fear becomes rage, and this time it is I who puts hands on Vincent. I lean forward and plant my palms on his thigh, bordering on hysterics.

"Then whose was it, damn it?!" I throw myself back into the seat and cross my arms, waiting for Vincent to merge back on the road. I flick my gaze over to him several times as he braces his arms on the steering wheel, then runs his fingers through his hair, his breaths coming in short, panting gasps. Then all at once, he slams his fists into the steering wheel and screams, pulling at his hair before breaking down. I know he is having some sort of attack, but I am too drained to do more than stare at my feet now, flinching at the loud noises. Today needed to be over- Better yet, this year needed to be over.

When Vincent calms himself down enough to get back on the road, his eyes red and face puffy, we return to my apartment in almost record time. I am through the door, leaving it wide open, and in the tub before he even makes it up the steps to my floor. I hear the front door close when he comes in, and then some shuffling. There is the sound of bowls being pushed around, and the microwave chirps a few times, but I wonder if he figures that neither of us would have much of an appetite after what had happened back in the car.

Finally, Vincent sulks into the bathroom, looking just about as worse for wear as I am. The bathtub is still filling with water to wash in as I lay in it, so for the time being I ignore him completely. I shut my eyes and turn my head towards the wall until I hear the rustle of fabric hitting the floor. I turn just in time to see Vincent trudging towards me, and I hate to admit that I glance down before our eyes meet. "No. We are not having sex in my tub. You should just go home." I huff, not in the mood for any type of shenanigans.

"No, not that." He croaks. I have to admit, he sounds so pathetic. I wonder how he could be so upset, being a heartless child-killer and all. I let him in nonetheless, too weary to fight, and he sinks into the tub behind me, cradling me close to his chest as the water level slowly rises. "Relax." Vincent murmurs as his hands roam up my back to my shoulders, pressing into my tightened muscles with his thumbs. His fingers knead my shoulders, and as much as the bruises ache, my tense muscles cry for more relief. He avoids my neck entirely, partially due to the fact I am so battered in that area, and also because- I figure- that he knew I was still emotionally raw from a few hours before. My chin drops to my chest, and for a few minutes I sink into an exhausted, yet light sleep until Vincent rouses me to address the rising water level.

When the tub fills enough, I shut the water off and already Vincent has my soap in hand, his smile gentle and almost tender if I squinted my eyes and tilted my head. He helps me bathe, especially since I cannot bend or stretch in almost any direction. He is so gentle and caring that it makes me want to weep in gratitude and adoration. I want him here at my side since I am afraid that I would be hurt again the moment he left, but at the same time I am disgusted that the hands that so carefully, and perhaps lovingly, tended to me had once stripped the lives of innocent children from this world. I refill the bathtub once again, and we slip into silence as the water rises, my eyes fixed on the lazy way the steam drifts up from the bath.

I kick the tap closed before the tub overflows and without hesitation, Vincent reaches for a bath bomb and lets it splash into the water. The little colored ball fizzes from blues and purples to golds and reds, turning the surface of the water into a tye-dye of swirling foam. The scent in it is musky, yet not so overwhelmingly masculine that it hurts my nose. Believe me, if you want to smell bad musk, your nearest Abercrombie & Fitch will gladly provide you enough of a sample to last a lifetime. As with before, there are no words for us to say. Instead, a mental war rages in my mind. I can't believe for a moment that he could possibly be guilty of murder, but yet he says that he did it, but not willingly. Whose fault was it? An underlaying thought creeps again and again into the forefront of my mind as I draw a conclusion from my thoughts. 

I might be in love with a murderer and I am possibly willing to forgive him for killing children. Fuck. That's it. Everybody, go home. I have officially lost what was left of my shit.

By the time I come to terms with this revelation, Vincent's body is warmer than our lukewarm water and my whole being sags with fatigue. Noticing my desire to sleep, he tries once, twice, and then on the third time manages to pop the plug on the tub with his foot, pausing to stare at me, intrigued that I had managed to make it look so easy all of the many times he had visited me in the bath. I shakily take to my feet and accept the towel offered to me, patting myself dry. When I step towards the door, my body protests and nearly comes out from under me, and I sag against the counter until Vincent plucks me up from nearly toppling to the floor and hefts my tired ass to bed.

This time, when he lowers me to the mattress, he is gentle, and he is careful to keep his hands away from the ugly bruises that spatter my entire body. He is a ghost of the sassy, frisky fellow I have had the pleasure of spending my sexy times with. I cannot fathom how the man littering me with butterfly kisses could possibly be a killer, but my racing, rational thoughts are ruining the moment for my primal feelings, and I push them away in favor of dragging Vincent's attention from my broken body to my bruised, yet still needy lips. The moment his brush mine, I melt into him, cupping his face in my hands.

We do nothing more that morning except kiss and cuddle close for comfort. I eventually sink into sleep, too worn out to remain conscious any longer, but I wake several times throughout the day, jerking violently to my senses, which is enough to rouse Vincent, who doesn't appear surprised each I recoil awake. I figure it's merely restlessness from the night before, but soon I realize that it's probably because he's used to them when he's slept with somebody else with a history of similar nightmares. I further realize that perhaps I had been mistaken whenever Vincent rose to, what I thought was, use the bathroom or get a drink of water throughout the night. A creeping suspicion arises that he too jerks out of a dead sleep, his heart pounding in terror. I can imagine we all see the same sight over and over again whenever we close our eyes.

Those pinholes of white in those dark, empty sockets.

\-----------------------------

"The first girl was an accident long before either Scott or I even worked here. A homeless child was thought to have been killed in the parking lot of the original Fredbear's Diner that this particular animatronic came from. Back then, it was just the Golden Freddy and Golden Bonnie model. Since we are the first location of this chain, we have the honor of housing the same Goldie and Spring animatronics, while other locations have been used to store other, frankly safer, models from over the years." Vincent snuggled up against my back, his voice barely a whisper in my ear. We have been up for over an hour, since now is usually the time I clock into work, but with Scott taking my shift, we both find it hard to fall back asleep.

"Then how did the rest die?" I ask. My fingers play his rough hands, and the scratchy sensation of his callouses against the pads of my fingers oddly comforting.

"The child's spirit was trapped in the Golden Freddy Fazbear animatronic, or Goldie as we refer to him. At first it was harmless knowledge, and just plain creepy to realize the animatronic had a life of its own beyond its servos, but when the last location opened and Scott and I were employed, something went down and it turned into what you saw last night."

"That golden freak has been postal that long?!" I interject, "Why hasn't that fucker been thrown in a dumpster? Better yet, why hasn't this whole fucking operation closed by now? How can you go from one location to another with psychotic fuckbots as your main attraction?!" I hiss. 

"The rest of them are fine, it's their coding that makes them like they are. We don't know what it could be with Goldie though. Voodoo magic, some stupid kids using an ouija board on the old property and opening some sort of gate to hell? Demonic possession? Fuck, I would even accept cursed Native American burial ground at this point if it meant having an explanation. We tried to lock him away in one of the storage closets, but he's like a fucking phantom. He can be anywhere at anytime and there's nothing we can do to stop him. We didn't know about it until it was too late and..." Vincent trailed off. "And it messed us both up too. Whatever is in that suit had its way me for a while when I worked the night shift. I got it worse because I had taunted it when it would pop up on the cameras. I thought I was invincible back then." I stare at him in silent horror. Vincent shrugs dismissively, and I can feel the amused grin of his lips on the nape of my neck.

"I know, stupid me." He pauses to chuckle before he continues. "When I moved to the day shift, by the grace of the fucking gods, I was already just as much as a puppet as the animatronic it uses to get around. Goldie stripped me of my control like he stripped me of my dignity and made me kill those kids to exact its revenge on me through me. I had pissed it off, and since there's some remnants of a dead kid's soul somewhere in that hellish husk, he saw me as their killer, or maybe it just wanted to fuck over the guy that laughed in its face. Whatever is in that suit wanted me to rot in jail for the rest of my life, or worse, because I taunted something with more power than I could ever begin to imagine. It's better than death, when I think about it, but still shitty."

"But what about Scott?" I ask, too enraptured with what I am hearing to say much more than that. Vincent stiffened and he grew still, as if hurt.

"It had Scott around the time of the Bite of '87, which we presume is Goldie's fault as well, but it didn't happen nearly as quick, and he shook it off somehow when a new guard took over. I don't know what it sees in us in particular, because usually the night guard just gets spooked by the animatronics and clears out before they have a chance to see Goldie, let alone get hurt. Even when they stay a bit longer than average, they've never heard of, let alone seen neither hide nor hair of that fucking monster." I take Vincent's hand and pull it over myself to bring him closer, seeking comfort in his warmth.

"We stay here because we're terrified that whatever possesses that suit will try to tamper with the other animatronics and kill more kids if given the chance, or stick to us if we leave this place behind, and we stay here in case he attacks another night guard to let them know the truth: We're stuck here, all of us." At this I pause, let the words sink in, and quickly roll over. I put a hand to my mouth, pause, then put it on his lips. Vincent's brows furrow in confusion as I repeated the action several times until I finally found the words.

"What do you mean by 'all of us'? It should be 'Scott and I'. I'm not part of this fucking dynasty!" I yelp and shake my head, panicking.

"The only people alive who have seen what Goldie can do are you and the two of us." Vincent said quietly. "I don't like even mentioning him on the property- It's like even the slightest word triggers these horrible dreams." He looks up from the floor, his brown eyes glazed over as if he were mentally in the middle of it all again. "I relive everything like it's happening again and again." When he pauses, his arms tighten around me and his breath as sharp as a death rattle.

"There is no escape from it."


	8. All That Glitters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! Sorry for the wait guys. It took quite a bit of time to map out how I want the rest of the fic to go- also writing smut takes some time when not in a smutting mood. xD;

A few days away from the pizzeria helps renew my strength. Vincent leaves in the morning to go to work, and while I manage to sleep, it is fractured with the same frequent night terrors. Startling awake only causes me more pain, which when partnered with my panicked thoughts, creates several emotional meltdowns throughout the day. By the time Vincent returns for the night, I have drained almost half a bottle of vodka that I keep on standby to soothe both my mental and physical aches. I sit on the couch in my pajamas, a vodka and sprite in one hand, and a hot pocket in the other, so drunk that the whimsy of Toddlers and Tiaras holds my attention as the door unlocks and swings open.

"Hey, squirt." Vincent mumbles, his eyes flickering from the TV, then to my flushed face, and finally to the contents of my hands. He smirks and wordlessly retreats into the kitchen to pour himself a drink and settles down beside me. I scoot to the edge of the couch to let him lay down and join him as if the day prior hadn't happened. He twines his body into mine, and I giggle and take a sip of my drink, plopping my half eaten hot pocket onto the coffee table in front of the couch. "Hey there, big sexy." I chirp, the slurring of my voice enough evidence to prove I was definitely into my third or fourth drink. Vincent throws back some of his alcohol and snickers. "Had a good day?" He asked.

I nod and turn my attention back to the television. Vincent downs his drink and we shuffle around on the couch until he gets up again to fetch the bottle. There is a look of amusement on his face as he hands it to me. The fuck is this? The gears turn in my head, but I uncap the bottle and take a swig after a few seconds of staring at it. In the end, we move the alcohol back and forth, taking a swig each time it passes hands. If I had thought I was drunk before, by the time the bottle is empty and the vodka is gone, we are both thoroughly shitty-shit-shitfaced.

My hands slowly reach down to cup Vincent through his pants, which have already tented with his need as the blood rushes from his one head to the other. "I want you ssso bad." I slur, rolling over to clumsily shut the TV off. In the darkness, Vincent's wandering hand reaches down and palms me through my night pants. I croon in response and press into him eagerly, trapping our hands between one another. I grind into him, and he likewise until we both can't keep pace. Even though I know that he wants to bend me over the end of the couch and fuck me until I scream, Vincent remains gentle, cupping my face in his hand as he kisses me and sits up.

"C'mon, let's get to the bed." He purrs. I take his suggestion to heart and leap to my feet, careening back to the carpet with a 'ommph' before standing up much slower than my last attempt. I wait for Vincent, who is feeling his alcohol just as fiercely, to wobble to full height before we make the precarious journey through my apartment to my bedroom. I dive onto the bed partially naked, throwing my clothes to the floor as Vincent toes off his shoes, his shirt nowhere to be seen as he had abandoned it somewhere down the hall in my kitchen. He hits the bed just as nude as I am, and instantly we come together, kissing the taste of cola and alcohol off of one another's lips as we twist in the sheets.

He brings his hands down between my legs, and I arch into his urgently. I don't attempt to rationalize with him verbally and instead score my nails down his arms, my voice heady as I groan. When it seems as if he'd finally give me what I want, Vincent's head dips down and he turns himself around, giving me the best view of his lower half to date. God damn, I knew I was right letting this guy into my apartment. I took notice of a little tattoo on his hip that until now had been nothing but a smudge of color on his skin. About a the size of a quarter, it was actually a little goddamn pizza. That cynical fuck. I smile in amusement, jerking in surprise as Vincent's hot breath ghosts over me, the radiant heat more pleasing than anything I have ever felt.

I prop my head on his thigh and sloppily kiss the head of his cock while we please one another, relishing the velvety feeling of him in my hands. There is a weight on my own leg likewise and my body trembles in delight as his hands finally find their mark, his mouth not far behind. I hope, for his sake, that I can keep it together with his head buried in my groin, my hands pumping slowly up and down his shaft as I reacquaint myself with the flushed head of his dick, the taste of precum not my favorite, but at this point I'd do just about anything for this guy. Vincent's rumble of pleasure sends vibrations straight into me, and I moan into his cock, taking more of him into my mouth until I could barely stand it. Bobbing my head slowly, I swirl my tongue along his shaft while Vincent, who should be given an award for his oral athleticism, slips his fingers into his mouth and presses two of them into me. My head snaps back, free of his cock. 

"You motherfucker!" I keen, trying my hardest not to snap my thighs tight around his head and rut into the heat. I push his lower half flat to the bed and hold myself up on my elbows, determined to tease the shit out of this fucker in response to his mastery of oral. A thought came to mind and I slick my own fingers and push into him with a gentleness, surprised by the intensity of his reaction, His hips snapped back against my hand with enough force to hilt my finger to the knuckle, and the words start flowing senselessly from his mouth. Greatly intrigued by his reaction, I reach for the bottle of lube on my bedside table and slick another finger, introducing it to Vincent with no resistance, but I have to admit, the way he pants my name is something to behold. There is something intensely sexy about the way he fucks himself down into my hand, and when I bring my mouth back to suck at his tip, I swear he screams the loudest since we've met.

Redoubling his efforts on me, my hands jerk and falter, unable to keep up an even pace as my vision swims in bliss. It is when he hooks my arm with his foot and puts me on my back that it's a frantic dash to climax, my head tilted back as Vincent practically fucks my throat. I am aware of the discomfort, but with alcohol in my brain and the ecstasy below my waist, I take it like a champ, the heat of Vincent's climax running down my throat the only indication he had finished before me. Satisfied, his fingers are more direct when it comes to fucking me senseless, and his mouth is on me like a hot, second skin. The thrill of the moment has me on edge, and when partnered with the fantastic oral I'm receiving, I completely lose myself, arching off of the sheets into my lovers mouth as I too cum my brains out.

We drop to the bed panting, and for a moment it seems as if we have finished for the night, but there is still an itch to scratch that Vincent's fingers can't reach. I playfully, yet gently squeeze his head between my thighs, and he bites my leg in return, wriggling around on the bed until he is beside me again, his kisses musky with my own scent and taste. When he presses into me, I bite back a hiss of discomfort. I know it's because I have been recently plundered, but I wasn't going to pass this up for almost anything. With a little more lubrication on part of the bottle on my bedside table, he slides in with less pain and I relax into the mattress. Vincent cups my ass and leans into me, rocking my knees up to my chest to plunge every inch of himself into me. I cross my ankles behind his head and he falls into a slow pace, as I'm still too sore for anything short of laying there.

"Is it alright?" I ask almost innocently, as if for this one time we've fucked, the mindblowing awesome sex had transformed into the worst he's ever had. As much as I hate to admit, I'm quite a bit insecure if I don't perform to my best, especially in the bedroom. "It's okay, you're fucking perfect... Even if you're being a complete pillow princess." He reassures, playfully biting the arch of my foot as I reach up to rub it in his face. He wraps his arm around my outstretched leg and spreads me wide, guiding the limb around his waist as he deftly fills me to the brim. We don't even think about cumming, eventually stopping to settle down for the night when we grow bored of snarking and teasing one another to tears.

 

\-----------------------------

 

The next morning, Vincent leaves, as usual. I sleep in, completely unaware of his departure, the screech of my cellphone rousing me from a dead sleep. I answer the phone to Scott, who screams so loudly that the words are garbled and unintelligible, but obviously frantic. I have to yell at him several times to quiet down so that I can understand what he is saying, each time growing more anxious myself to hear what he had to say. My blood chills at his message. "HE ALMOST FUCKING DID IT." Scott sounds completely hysterical, and my first reaction is to scramble out of bed to dress and get to work, biting back pain from my protesting body as I press the phone to my ear with my shoulder. "Did what?! Did he kill another kid?!" I am the one shouting now as I wrench my work slacks up my legs and shakily tie my shoes, my head reeling in shock. Goldie had spared no time in getting back in his head. This wasn't safe- This wasn't safe.

Scott, hearing the crash of my drawers slamming shut, attempts to clam me down."No he didn't kill anybody, so you don't have to come in right this moment, but he was close. One of the little ones was talking about a Golden Bonnie when I came in early for my shift to check on him. There's no other soul in this world who would willingly put that deathtrap on after what happened at our sister site. The suits are rigged like a fucking mousetrap and they killed two employees at the same time a few years ago. That's what we got for trying to have a retro promotion." Scott noticed that had ranted for some time and trails off, sighing almost as if in dread, drawing out the silence until I knew what he had to say would not be pleasant. "Anyways, I can't even have Vincent there alone during the day. I need you to go back onto the night shift again earlier than we anticipated."

My world stops. "How early?" I ask warily, expecting to get maybe a week more to rest. I try to guess his answer, and I am not surprised with his response.

"Tomorrow night." Scott replies, his tone solemn. No 'psyche' or 'jkjk'. Nope. He was being serious... Fuck. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as my voice cracks, knowing that this moment had been long past coming, but I am not yet willing to rationalize it. I audibly whimper. "D-Dude, my bruises haven't even healed yet. If this thing can get into my room without using the doors again, how am I supposed to stop it? I don't want it to hurt me again." Scott cursed into the phone, trying to balance his own fear for my well being with that of Vincent's. It was the perfect 'your best friends are gonna die, but you can only save one' scenario, and as much as I loved Scott, I knew he would pick Vincent over me every time.

"I don't know what else to do. I can't have you working the day shift at all looking like death warmed over, or else we'll have the management involved, and there is no question that Vincent can't stand the night shift alone. I don't even know if it will change things with either of us there with him. It's too dangerous. All I know is that Vincent needs to stay away from the pizzeria for a few weeks. After that he is only allowed on the property for the day shift when I am there and he never leaves my sight. We don't really have many more options than that."I fall silent, considering the possible outcomes. As much as I dread the experience, I fear for Vincent's life more. I couldn't live with myself if I knew that I could have prevented him from getting in trouble, or even killed. Man, when did I become such a bleeding heart? "How many times did it happen to you before- y'know?" I ask, my jaw tight. I hear Scott curse softly and shifts in his seat.

"A few. It started out with him appearing on camera. Then he'd be there in my room, but all he'd do was watch me from the corner of my eye. Whenever I would turn to react, he'd be gone. Goldie never outright attacked me until Vincent was dropped of all charges and allowed to come back to the pizzeria. Even then, it wasn't half as bad as you looked. Vincent- I don't know how he managed it, but by the time he got a replacement, I was wondering if he had killed those kids on purpose just to get the place closed down so he didn't have to walk around covered in bruises. You and him- I know you guys are messing around. That's gotta piss him off.." I can't speak, choked by my own fear. A minute of silence slips by, and then another after that.

"You there?" Scott asks, concerned. I grunt in reply, then make the hardest decision of my life.

"I'll go back."

 

\------------------------

 

Those next nights will forever be ingrained in my mind. 

When the animatronics come to the doors, there is no recognition in their eyes. I nearly make the fatal mistake of letting Bonnie slip in at first, but when I see there is nothing left of him, I make it my duty to work flawlessly through the night, lest I actually meet my maker this time around. On the fourth night, I slam the doors shut so short of Foxy that I catch part of his claw in the door, which he pulls free after several seconds of frantic thrashing. I can barely manage to hold myself together though an hour of their onslaught, let alone six. When they stiffly return to their positions, I weep, and the relief on Scott's face as he turns the corner only worsens my sobs. The night terrors increase in frequency and intensity in response to my stress, and soon enough I stop sleeping at all.

That very next night, Goldie comes again for me. I don't know how I didn't see it coming, in hindsight, but all I remember is setting down my tablet after shutting the West Hall door. As I turn to glance into the East Hall window for Chica, who had been lurking outside recently, I see Goldie in the room out of the corner of my eye instead. I try to open the door beside me to escape, but it jams, the clicking of the mechanism failing enough to turn my blood to ice. He crushes me into the heavy metal door and I scream out in terror, my body going limp as my toes scrape the floor. Goldie tosses me on the desk and stands back, glaring at me until I remove my shirt, his rumble of satisfaction causing the hair on my neck to rise. "Glad to see you know your place, little one." He mutters. I don't look him in the eye.

"Please." I breathe and slow my progress, too afraid to stare at the pinpricks of white in those empty sockets. "Please no." He makes a move to strike me, but I reluctantly finish disrobing instead and toss my garments to the side, covering myself up with my hands. When he advances, I shut my eyes and try my hardest to tune out the situation. It isn't until the hand clenches around my throat once more that I open them again, forced to stare into those demonic sockets until the darkness tinges my vision and nearly devours my consciousness whole.

"I can't wait to really fucking break you in." Goldie mutters. "First I'll take you and hide you away, and when those idiots come looking for you, I'll get them as well. Maybe I'll let you watch as I take my sweet time with them before I kill them both. I'm sure you've been dying to know what I did to them..." He trails off as I turn my face away, reaching to return it to its original place, his fingers firm on my jaw."You're so... delicate compared to those two. Have to say that you're like a fresh breath of air to my old, dirty lungs." Goldie laughs bitterly in my face before his hand moves down my chest and stomach.

Panicked, I kick him in the groin, which amazingly works, and scramble for the other door. I do not fear the other animatronics half as much as I fear Goldie, but as I swing my arm to press the button, the original Fazbear furiously clouts me in the head with his fist, sending me skidding across the floor. As my vision swims, I see Goldie's feet stride closer. He bends down and grabs me by the neck, pulling me up level with his face. "Wrong choice, little one." He growls dangerously. I do not hear what else he has to say as my world goes quiet and black. I stay conscious long enough to hit the floor again, and I now know better than ever the severity of the situation. 

There are no more games.


	9. Climax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost completely done with writing (been putting it off due to my laptop exploding and college starting). I should be finished soon. How soon? Well, perhaps you should stick around to find out. ;P

I finally come to in my bed of all places, barely able to lift my head up and my body so stiff and sore that I wince in pain even when I try to blink my eyes. I can still taste blood on my tongue and my lips are swollen and bruised like the last time I had been attacked. The moment I shift, Scott leaps up from my bedside to get Vincent, and I panic as he leaves my view, trying to speak, but instead squawking in a mixture of frantic gibberish and sharp yelps of pain. I try to look down at my agonized body, but I see my comforter instead, tucked gingerly around me in a way that trapped my arms beneath. "What day is it?" I keen as the footsteps grow close enough to discern. How long had I been out?

"Tuesday. You've been unconscious for two days." It's Scott who replies as they turn into the room, his voice hard as he tries to keep his cool. Vincent looks like a mess, still wearing the same clothes he had been in the last time I saw him. They've both grown a fair amount of scruff, as if they had spent the entire time outside of work with me rather than returning to their own apartment. I move to sit up, trying to hide how injured I actually was, but I can tell from their faces that they don’t believe my farce. I gingerly lift my hand to wave them away, teeth grit around my words. 

"I've gotta work tonight. I've-" Vincent, without missing a beat, plops down beside me on the bed and tries his best to hold the comforter around my neck, but when it slips down to my waist and I see the extent of my damage, I throw the cover off and bite back a scream of horror. I am completely blotched with purple bruises from my neck to my ankles, and the only way I could discern the older marks from the newer are the golden halos around the healing damage. What had he done?!

"What happened?" I finally whimper after mustering the conviction, slumping back into the mattress as Vincent covered me up again and tucked me back in with a careful touch. Scott chose to reply, coming to sit near to me, as if his very self was enough to help ground me to the situation. "You weren't in the office when we came in for the day shift Monday morning. Vincent freaked out and we thought that Goldie had got you until we checked in the safe room where we found you there face down, completely naked, with..." Scott trailed off as Vincent shot him an intense glare, and I grasp at his arm, panicking at his reaction. "… It was a miracle we got you out without anybody noticing."

Had I been in better spirits, I would have laughed manically, as I had the first morning after the initial attack, but it would have looked like I had finally snapped- and I had no intentions of being sent to the loony bin. "With what?" I hiss, needing to hear the rest of his last thought. I stare intensely at Scott until his brown gaze flicks to his lap and he chews at his pierced lip nervously. He fiddles with his hands, his words almost sheepish as he answered my question. 

"The word 'MINE' was etched in the skin on your back." I feel my jaw coming open as my world comes to a stop. Nope. Nope, nope, NOPE. I am getting off this ride. I am done- 1000% done. "You're fucking kidding me. Please tell me I'm not going back." They both look at me as in tense silence, almost as if I had sprouted another head right then and there. Vincent lays down beside me, still wordless, as if the entire experience had robbed him of his senses. He pulls me close, and I settle back into his embrace, the sensation of his breath against my ear enough to soothe me.

"You're not." Scott assures, astounded that I would expect spend even an hour more in the pizzeria, let alone overnight after such a brutal attack. "We're getting you a replacement and you're taking an extended leave of absence until Hell freezes over as far as I'm concerned. The only facts that the upper management know about is that you were involved a 'car accident' on your way home from work this morning and you'll be healing out of town from the injuries you suffered in the wreck." I want to nod, but it feels out of place, not to mention that it would most likely bring me more pain than I am able to stomach. My mind wanders from the information I've received to the next, most obvious question.

"Who is my replacement?" I look between them and rest my gaze on Scott, who blanches, raises his hands defensively and waves them in alarm. "It’s not me! His name's Mike Schmidt- He's coming off of another job at our sister location and we're lucky enough to have him available on such short notice, but we have to hold down the fort for the last four nights so he can finish up." I stare at him blankly. Honestly, his words were as good as a death sentence to my ears. Nothing really registers anymore. It's as if everything decided to filter straight through one ear and out the other. My mind reels.

"Until then?" I feel as if I am forced to claw every single detail from my friend, and although I understand his concern, it is hard to focus and prompt him for more information each time he has a break of words. "Until then, I'm taking over again. Vincent's going to be here 24/7 to help you out since I don't think you'll be doing anything on your own for a while. You may have some minor fractures, but taking you to the hospital would probably get the both of us thrown in prison on the assumption that one of us did it. Better safe than incarcerated." I roll my eyes as they weigh the pros and cons of not actually getting me proper medical attention. I figure unless I am about to die, they are right, and that Vincent can help me move about the apartment.

"That said- I think it's time we cut ties with this hellhole and move on. The moment Freddy's closes its doors, we're out of here and moving as far away from this town as possible. I don’t care what happens, any sort of hellish revenge is better when that fucking suit is as far away as we physically can be from it. Alright?" Scott is shaking now, and I reach for him and set my hand on his, meeting his eyes with one word.

"Fine."

 

Scott assumes my duties as night guard once again, much to our protest, and I break my lease on my apartment to move in with Scott and Vincent while I recover, and perhaps longer than that, so it seems by the way Vincent had tended to me in recent days. The situation itself is enough that I never spend more than a minute alone when given the chance. A new face, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, takes on the role of the day guard now that Scott works nights and I'm out of commission, and when he returns the first morning, we are elated that he is unscathed. Scott insists if we can make due until Mike takes over, and eventually the restaurant closes, that maybe somehow we can free ourselves from this accursed place and remake our lives as far from here as possible. The plan seems so simple, and with the hours ticking down, it seems as if it would go off without a hitch.

On the second morning Scott comes home, shaken up, but not otherwise harmed. When prompted about his night, he comes to the conclusion that we had decided to pull away from the restaurant in the nick of time. It appeared as if the shit was about to hit the proverbial fan. What aggression I had seen in the animatronics during the night shift had been reported to be surfacing during the day shift now as well. Their free-roaming mode had to be disabled at one point the prior evening when Chica had aggressively confronted a parent trying to leave with their child. They were like fucking kid-hoarders. It was crazy.

Morning three is when we realize the severity of the situation. Scott arrives bruised, but able to limp into the apartment on time. We know instantly what has happened, and Vincent and I beg Scott not to go back, but our companion believes that he can last one more night. He hasn't let the power run out since the sudden change in the animatronics’ behavior, and for good reason. He says that they've been worse in the past, and if he stays on the alert, he'll be done with no issues. We don't believe him, but for his sake we don't breathe a word of doubt because the last thing we'd want to have our friend remember is any dissent. We awake early in the evening to be there when Scott left for work, and I cry as if I had already lost him.

In the Saturday afternoon before Scott's fourth and final night in our personal hell, we find ourselves sitting together on my couch, the flash of the television barely registering as we stare at the show in silence. I can’t place a name to mind, but it involves plenty of explosions and lots of shrill noises and shouts. When I can no longer stand the bullshit assaulting my ears, I turn to my right and gently tug on Vincent’s sleeve. "Hey, switch it off." I mumble, the drone of the television alone making my head pound. The instant he presses the power button, we are consumed in silence where we sit for some time. Thankfully, the throbbing in my skull fades thanks to the lack of noise, and we glance at one another as if waiting for a sign from the great beyond to descend down and deliver us a conversation topic. I look between them several times before- Fuck it. I fix them a look and place my hand on Vincent’s thigh, earning a curious, but still confused look. “Squirt?” Vincent asks warily, flicking his eyes down to my hand and then back to mine.

I creep over a weary, yet slowly realizing Vincent as I flop onto Scott's chest, setting my head over his heart to hear the sound: That very fragile, human sound that hitches my breath and makes me love him with every inch of my being not already loving on the man whose lap I half-laid in. After a few moments, I feel a hand on my ass cheek and don’t even turn to admonish our purple haired companion, deciding to instead run my hand down Scott’s chest and side before giving him a firm rub. The way his breath hitches draws a giggle from me, and I’m determined to hear more of those precious vocalizations. "You wanna?" He asks, his breaths deep and husky the moment I pause my movements. I glance over my shoulder to a very game Vincent who, had he not had one hand in his jeans and the other groping at my crotch, would have given me a thumbs up. Eh, what the heck. 

"Yeah." I press Scott back against the couch cushions and kiss him in earnest, running my fingers through that mess of brown-blonde hair until we part for air. As our eyes meet, I know at once that I love this man just as much as I love Vincent, even though the majority of our interactions had, until recently, been strictly within the confines of our workplace. It’s a sobering feeling, to know somebody so little who would still would take a bullet- or a rapist animatronic- for an almost total stranger… I’d blame it on a poor upbringing had I not known that trauma could also make one feel like fucking the life out of two of the most perfectly matched people in the world.

As we part yet again for that sweet, sweet oxygen, we glance up to a very red and bothered Vincent whom, at the sight of his closest companions sucking face on the couch, has been left rooted to the spot, the hunger in his eyes enough to send a shockwave of lust through my body. I want him, and I want Scott too- both of them at the same time. Everybody say it with me now: Two birds, one stone. Go me. We all tumble onto the floor, and of course, knowing my luck, I end up on the bottom of the pile. Scott presses his hands down against my wrists and smiles, though that normally innocent grin doesn't seem so wholesome now. He is interrupted by an impatient Vincent, who looks as if he hasn't had any in eons, regardless how recently we had had our last romp in the sheets.

"If you're not gonna get naked, I'm gonna do it myself- and so help me god if you think I'm not gonna pull a knife out to do it." We topple onto the disgruntled man with our combined weight like a pair of supersized puppies, intent on stretching the fun out for as long as possible, as if doing the nasty would prolong any feeling of dread that would soon consume us as night fell. As Scott kneels onto Vincent's arms, I content myself with sitting over his knees. With a few deft movements, I pop the button on his jeans and ease the zipper down, freeing him from his boxers with an expectant sound of glee. 

Within minutes, we have shifted from couch to bedroom and from clothed to nude just as quickly. Scott presses into me with a slowness that makes my toes curl. I rock back against his cock to speed up the process, but each time he backs his hips away and pulls out a little, leaving me wanting more and more with every passing second. Once he finally hilts in me, filling me to the brim, Vincent is much less patient, and I can feel it in the way Scott's hands clench around my hips when Vincent plunges into him.

"We’ll see how funny it is now." He quips, giving Scott barely a moment to adjust before setting off at a relentless pace. The brown-haired man let out a whimper, as if the shock to his system had removed him from the current moment. He leans back against the frantic movement, slightly pulling himself away from me, to which I lean as well. Vincent chuckles and bucks his hips forward hard enough to topple Scott.

Within a few short minutes, Vincent finds a pace to work off of, and all I can do is bear back against Scott as he pistons into me, the clap of Vincent's hips into Scott's causing the other man to subsequently snap himself into me. The first time I try to match their uneven, heady pace, I wind up face first into the mattress, scrabbling for purchase as the two behind me pounded away. There is no chance in hell any of us stay silent with a tempo like this. Scott leans back into Vincent, his head rested on the other man's shoulder as our purple haired lover whispers sweet nothings into his ear. I do my best not to wake the entire apartment complex, my face either pressed into the comforter or muffled with a pillow to keep my whimpers quiet.

It doesn't take too long, and I can feel Scott quickly coming unwound, his pace erratic as the flame in his belly ignites, drawing him over the edge. When he cries out and buries himself in me, I can feel the gentle twitch as he climaxes, the heat sending chills up my spine. Vincent is still in the moment, however, and as Scott crumples down onto my back, I whimper pleadingly for more. Scott removes himself from the pile and hurries to the bathroom, returning with a washcloth for Vincent who, no matter how into the moment he is, does not want to be getting any of what's on him into me. I find amusement in their courtesy, rocking back on my knees as Scott presses his chest to mine. He flashes a smile, less devilish than Vincent's, but just as hungry and just as handsome.

"Fucking shit- Why haven't we done this sooner?" Vincent groans, the bottle of lube in his hand as he quickly prepares. When he presses into me I arch my back, rocking down hard onto him to pull as much of his cock into me as possible, our bodies coming together with a familiar shiver. Scott holds my face in one hand while his other roams downwards to rub and stroke between my legs, his lips soft, but most definitely needy. I lean on him for balance and take control of the kiss, wanting to taste him as well. I drag his lips through my teeth and soon our tongues intertwine, our motions almost as frantic as the pounding into me from behind. Vincent leans forward onto my shoulder, and for a few moments, I lose myself in them both. There is something special about the way we kiss and fuck, and the smell of our mingling sex is undeniably hot. The twinge of Vincent's teeth in my neck brings me back to my senses, and I lean back, breaking the kiss with Scott to moan huskily, only to crush my mouth back to his with renewed vigor. When we pull away, Vincent props his chin on my shoulder to get his overdue smooch with Scott.

I finish within minutes to Vincent's unforgiving pace. My body trembles as I arch and buck into one of the most intense orgasms I have ever experienced. Even though Scott and I are satisfied, it takes longer still for Vincent, who drags his hands over my back and grabs my hips roughly until he too finds his release, the sound of my mewls enough to bring him over the edge as well. We all collapse to the bed, exhausted and satisfied, and I would rather be nowhere else but here. 

We're a complete mess and probably insane, but here in this moment, we're fucking happy with life and at peace in the world. We know that in only a few hours, we would be free from Freddy Fazbear's and the fear that Goldie held over our heads. At least that was what we hoped.

I open my eyes to spot the two intently watching one another, before glancing at me. Vincent appears to be wrestling with some trouble thought. As the only one in the bed without any signs of recent abuse on his skin, the guilt is plain on his face. I can tell it kills him to see the only people who are important to him in such a state; that it was his fault for our suffering.


	10. Ransom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to take all of my self control to not release the rest of the fic in its entirety today. Chances are, that's what's going to happen, so BEAR with me for a few more hours so I can psyche myself into it. xD

The next morning is like a page out of a drama so obviously planned that we saw it coming weeks in advance. Scott simply doesn't come home. An hour after our companion is due back Vincent peels off in his car to the pizzeria, and by the time he returns, the water in the tub is cold and I am still wracked with agonized sobs, a broken bottle and several holes in the walls the evidence of my reaction to the loss before he could even confirm it. We know it's the end of everything we knew and more. As planned, Mike takes the job that very evening, and he comes to see us after his first night. I embrace him like a brother the moment the door opens, and we let him stay over through the day, explaining to him the heavy burden he had unknowingly shouldered.

By the time we finish recounting the recent weeks, he turns to me and appears choked for the words. I see his eyes flick to my neck, and then down my arms. He goes to point, but lets his hand fall limp in his lap. "Is this why I needed to take over?" He asks quietly. Vincent stiffens up, as if to admonish him, but I give his hand a squeeze and nod. "Yeah, you weren't here when things were good- Well, as good as they were gonna get." From the discussion of the bad came the stories of what we could consider ‘the happy times’. We tone down the obvious sexual overtones, but all in all Mike seems to get what we had and what we lost. He suggests we seek ‘help’ and I humor him by checking out possible therapists or means of getting some semblance of normalcy back in our life, but at this point, it’s for naught.

 

\--------------------------------

 

On the fourth night after Scott’s disappearance, I get a call. I glance at the clock, and wonder who would be calling at 1am? We're both up anyways, but I had gotten out of the tub and was in the midst of dressing and Vincent was in the living room fiddling with TV in preparation to put a movie in. As I bring my cell up and check the caller ID, I immediately snap it to my ear, icy panic running cold through my veins.

"Hey. Hello- Hello? Mike?"

"Hey, are you and Vincent both home?" There's a quietness to Mike’s voice that raises the hair on the back of my neck. I sit back on the bed, kicking my legs out, even though the stiffness sends a throb of hurt up my back.

"Yeah, why?" As I probe for more information, the time before Mike replies lasts for seemingly forever and I find my breath catching in my chest.

"It's about Goldie." My heart skip’s a beat and my head reels. Even that name is enough to put me completely on edge. It manifests in my voice, the panic evident as I shakily attempt to gain my composure. "Goldie?! Did what? Are you okay?! Mike, what's going on?!" I plead into the phone, the hammering of my heart sending shock-waves through my tortured system. I can barely hear his reply over the sound.

"Goldie killed Scott." Mike hisses, his voice shaking. My world reels as I let out a cry of anguish though the news itself is unsurprising, and when Vincent runs into the room to come to my aid, expecting a nightmare, he stops in the doorway, searches my face for an answer, and slumps to the floor, sobbing silently into his hands. "Where's the body?" I whimper into the phone. Mike curses. "I don't know- That fucking monstrosity ambushed Scott last Saturday. I know he's dead because he left a recording for me from his cellphone on his last night to check the heads in the back... There was nothing there- I even checked the stuff in the safe room- that's why Scott never came home. I think Golden Freddy killed Scott and put the body inside his own suit."

 

I continue living with Vincent, and to help pay the rent, we both work retail jobs at other places. When he comes home, he barely takes care of himself. Half of the time, I don't blame him. As if it couldn't get worse, Mike is fired from his job on the night shift as well, barely a week after he was hired- The sorry motherfuckers let him go for, of all things, tampering with the animatronics. We both know who had actually done the deed, and Mike had already planned to quit once Goldie started to show up on camera anyways, but we do not fight it because our stories would sound more far fetched than this easy out. It is, in a fucked up sort of way, our out of the pizzeria.

It's for the best, I conclude, and now that it all seems to be over, I take Mike’ advice and redouble my efforts to find a therapist in search of the one who could magically solve my problems and put a dent in Vincent's almost constant depression. I never work during the day, hoping that by staying awake during the darker hours, I would be safer from Goldie's wrath at work than in my bed. Vincent takes up a job at a bar in the area, and we both fall into as normal a routine as possible. In the weeks to come, Mike lets me know that they closed down the pizzeria not long after his firing due to an increase in aggression on the part of the animatronics, and we all take the day off of to stay together, knowing for certain that we will never find out what had actually happened to Scott. 

Vincent and I continue this way of life for a year or two, or even three- they all seem to blend together- until he just suddenly... falls off the face of the earth. A call from his work looking for him is enough to set me into a panic. Fearing the worst, I go to our apartment and pray that Vincent is inside, having merely overslept, but find the door locked and everything untouched, just as we had left it in the evening. In the end, I report Vincent missing to the police within the week, knowing in the back of my head that no soul would find him if he really meant to hide away, if that was even the case. Also, it is because I am scared out of my mind that I will be next. I keep Vincent and Scott's clothes and their remaining personal trinkets in the now eerily quiet apartment. Their clothes sit in a box in my closet, but some pictures are left around, as if the guys hadn't vanished and were merely away for some reason or another. I can't accept the fact that Vincent is more than likely dead, so I live in a delusion, constantly yearning that one day he will walk through the door again and everything will be at least somewhat better than it is now.

Word reaches from Mike not long after Vincent’s disappearance that sounds have been heard coming from inside the abandoned pizzeria and that night, for the first time since Goldie had beaten me senseless, I go back to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria with the intentions of finding out what had really happened.


	11. Withered

I squeeze into the door of the abandoned Freddy Fazbear's Pizza with nothing but a flashlight and my phone in case of an emergency, which with my luck, would be a given. It is dark, but I recognize the main party room. The curtains to the show stage are moth-eaten and partially torn down due to the years of neglect. Initially, I look for Freddy and his friends, but after closing, I was told that they had been deactivated and moved into storage by the owners. I had pressed to buy them, and had been close to making a deal, but then it fell though for reasons unknown. I shake my head sadly at their empty places and make my way back into the hall toward the office.

As I walk down the long corridor, I see that my lifesaving doors have been torn off their tracks and set aside in the corner of the hallway. Hesitantly, I check the office. Everything is gutted and dilapidated, even the small desk fan that whirred nonstop years ago is missing. Rooting through the drawers scores me little mementos I could shove in my pocket: A pen; one of Scott's miniature notebooks full of shopping lists and little reminders, and Vincent's old employee pin. As I check the room, I note fixtures and memorabilia that either appeared to have been scrapped when the restaurant closed, or were left to rot. Children's pictures litter the hallways still as I make my way back to the main party room. Though some of them were molded or destroyed, I could still make out names and what the pictures were of on a few of the others. I check Pirate's Cove, but as expected- Nothing. The empty stage stands as a dilapidated shrine waiting for the return of its owner.

Going backstage to the parts room, I am sickened to see many of the auxiliary heads right where they had been left the day the pizzeria closed its doors. Time was not on their side, and many of them reeked of mildew and sported patches of gross, dark mold. I sweep my gaze around the room once more, feel an intense sensation of nausea, and leave without a second thought. As I wander across the stage towards the restrooms, I become aware of a low thudding in the area of the pizzeria where I am heading, and I jerk to a stop as I identify the steady two-beat tempo of footsteps. Spooked, I dart behind the curtains, crouching down low to make myself less visible in the tattered divider. I peek out from behind the moth bitten curtains and force my fist into my mouth to choke down a yelp of horror at the monstrosity that turns the corner not a moment later.

The animatronic that appeared from where the restrooms were stood much taller than I was, lurching unevenly over the debris. It slowly trudged into the center of the room, where I could see it more clearly through some of the streetlights that managed to penetrate the crumbling roof. A Bonnie model animatronic stood before me, its fur the color of mustard. There was only one person I knew in the world who would wear that costume, but if it were true? I tremble in fear as the Spring Bonnie jerked his head around, releasing a low groan of rage. I feel hot tears in my eyes.

"Vincent."

I register the sound of the words leaving my lips before I realize that I had indeed spoken them aloud, and I clap my hand over my mouth as the large rabbit snaps his head in the direction of the main stage. With my luck, the sound bounces across the large, empty room several times, and the animatronic turns around in response to try and pinpoint the source of the intruder. I stifle my sobs and hope desperately that it turns to go down the hallway towards the office and not backstage where I am hiding. "Go, you asshole. Go." I breathe. He turns, and for a moment I swear he sees me, but rather adjusts his course for the hall farthest from the door out back to the parking lot.

As he vanishes down the West Hall, I creep out from behind the curtain, desperate to make my exit now that I know I am in danger. I see that getting out of this death trap would be harder than getting in. The heavy metal door swung inwards, which meant that by leaving the same way, I would more than likely catch my skin or my clothing on the rusted metal edge. I put my shoulder into the door to shift it slightly more ajar, freezing as it croaks and moves only just an inch or so more open. I swallow my breath and wait in silence before trying to move it again. Before I have a chance to tease the door any father, a resounding yell roots me to the spot. I snap around and let loose a strangled cry of horror in reply as the spring lock animatronic turns the corner and spots me with those haunting, glowing eyes. I can't breathe- I see that stare in my darkest nightmares- and as I press myself against the edge of the door to crawl out, a hand latches around my leg and wrenches me away from freedom.

"NO!" I screech, kicking and screaming as the mustard colored rabbit drags me back into the main party room. I hit the musty checkerboard carpet and stare up in horror as the animatronic lumbers to stand over me. "Please, Vincent." I beg, praying that there is even a scrap of him left in there and that it would let me go. "It's me." The hand reaches and closes around my neck. I burst into tears again as visions of Golden Freddy dance behind my eyes. It's happening again. It's not my friend in control of the suit- it's him.

"You know you're not like this!" I sob in desperation, my hands clutching at Spring!Vincent's wrist. "You promised me that you would never let him get to you again! You promised Scott!" I shine my flashlight in my face, trying anything in an attempt to show him that I was real; that I was there and not a hallucination in his mind. "Look at me Vincent!" After a few seconds suspended in the air, he sets me down, as if trying to make sense of my words. I shakily fiddle with my phone and play one of the videos we recorded from the back room during one of the mornings after my shift. The short clip plays in silence for the first second before the audio kicks in.

***"So how do feel about surviving the night, squirt?"*** The spring lock monster freezes and tilts his head as if jarred by the sound of his own voice. I hear my own reply as the faint sounds of children's laughter echo in the background. I look ragged with exhaustion, a few yellowing bruises on my wrists. ***"Freddy better be ready for me at this rate! They’re all in for a nasty shock now that I know how to save power like a boss~"*** I shakily laugh, pushing at the purple haired man in the video after flashing the camera a weak thumbs up. ***"Yeah, yeah- You won't be saying that in a few weeks, squirt. Scott thinks you won't make it through the month without another hiccup. The record’s nine weeks, and by then I’d be looking for a new job before I slip up and let one of those thirsty motherfuckers in here after two months dry."*** The camera jerks around and rushes towards Vincent, who laughs and raises his arms protectively, a hand reaching out to box at him in jest.

***"I do not! Stop putting words in my mouth, Vincent! Last time I checked, I was the one who made it two months and I’m right here with a perfectly fuckable ass and the same shitty job I’ve had forever! You of all people should be bitching about taking one for the team!"*** The voice behind the camera is louder due to proximity, and the Spring!Bonnie sways, as if wounded. Spookily, I swear I hear a faint chuckle from within the animatronic’s toothy mouth. ***"You’re lucky I like you guys, else I’d be in the electrical room pulling every goddamn fuse in that box. And I’ll be sure to leave a box of chocolates and jug of lube on the desk for Freddy and Bonnie when they come a callin’."*** Vincent teases, and we dissolve into playful laughter as the clip comes to an abrupt end. It certainly isn’t the most Hallmark moment of our careers, but in the end- that was how we were at our best and how I remembered them.

"You remember that, don't you?" I ask the Golden Bonnie suit, slipping my phone back into my pocket. When I look to the animatronic, I see Vincent’s brown irises in the animatronic's cold plastic eyes, and he reaches for me as I choke back a sob of relief. Just as I feel his hand in mine, I see gold. A concussive force crushes into me and sends me flying. I land several feet away, crashing through the top of one of the old tables and snapping it in half. Lifting my head, I spot Vincent wrestling with the Golden Freddy suit, watching in horror as they push and swing at one another in an attempt to gain an advantage. As Goldie tumbles to the floor, I hear a muffled command.

"Run, squirt!"

Without another thought, I bolt for the door and ram into it. I look back one final time to see Vincent brandish a length of metal, likely from the table I crushed, and Goldie advancing on him. I can't bear to see more, cringing as the two animatronics encasing my closest friends brawled mere feet away. The sight alone would be forever burned into my memory. In the process of scrambling for my life, I cut my thigh and hands to pieces on that jagged door, and the only reason nobody ever knows of it is because I drive so frantically away from there that I flip my car as I flee and send myself to the hospital.


	12. We Too Can Repair Our Cracks

I return to the abandoned building several times after that night, only to be greeted with dead silence. Upon further inspection, I find the piles of endoskeletons and suits outside the old safe room, but never any sign that either Goldie or Vincent had been there to begin with. There is no blood- not even a single scrap of yellow-gold fur to show of.

In the end, I never truly recover from my time spent at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Years of therapy help ease only the noticeable mental wounds, and the night terrors never cease. I often wake up crying for help and searching for comfort, but in the end, I am as alone as ever, resorting to opening up that beaten cardboard box full of mementos in hope of finding peace in even the faintest scent of either Scott or Vincent on their old clothes. I consider killing myself at one point when I reach the end of my rope, in search of an easy way out, but I can't. I could have taken the easy way years ago, turned down the job, and avoided the whole thing. I know in my heart that if I took my own life, Goldie would 'win' and my friends would have died in vain. Whatever wonderful memories of Scott and Vincent remaining in this world would die with me, and then there would be nobody who would remember them the way I knew them. In the end, I spend my years living to keep their memory alive, and after what seemed like an eternity of misery, things started to change.

I reconnect with Mike at a bar downtown. He comes dressed as casually as I do, so much so that I barely recognize him outside of his old night guard uniform. We sit together and talk about life, the parts not pertaining to our old jobs, and in the end I move in with him to help lower his rent, and he lets me so that I have somebody to comfort me during my episodes. We are the only two surviving night guards who know the true horrors of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, and having another who understands helps when the distant aftershocks of trauma resurface. 

I am glad to have Mike as a friend- and scarcely, when work gets rough, and the alcohol meant to dull our pain muddies our thoughts, I'm more than glad to have him as an occasional lover. He lets me pursue all sorts of hobbies without being bothered by the mess or chaos, like when I leave a coating of soil on the kitchen counter from repotting my lavender plants, or when he walks into a room to find me curled up on the couch, playing back hours’ worth of Fazbear training videos and voice recordings I have saved to my computer from when Scott would leave me voicemails for my shift back when things were good and I was none the wiser of my fate. Eventually, Mike even helped me track down Vincent's old tattoo artist, and by the eight year anniversary of his disappearance, I sport ink of my own design- a homage to what I had lost stretched proudly on my skin in all manners of symbols and designs that told a story only to those who had truly experienced it.

I settle down the best I can. 

 

\-------------------

 

Years later, during a quiet breakfast, I see an advertisement that Mike had circled in highlighter in the morning newspaper for an upcoming haunted attraction that claims to tell the ‘true story’ of what happened at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria: "Fazbear's Fright".

Cringing, I violently force the paper into the trash can and clear my plate over it, my lips drawn back in a grimace of pain. Fighting back tears, I sneer to him bitterly that "I hope that place burns to the ground".

He agrees.


	13. EPLOUGUE :: Golden Slumbers

I crawl out of bed barely a week later, seeking the bathroom.

As I turn back to retreat to my room, I hear muffled voices coming from the kitchen, but as I turn the corner, they grow silent. I must be dreaming, I tell myself, and turn to return to my warm bed, but the moment I enter the hall, they start again. I figure there must be some reason to my madness, so I sink down and sit there, trying to eavesdrop on my own insanity. Was it the TV? Did somebody break in? I feel my stomach knot up, my anxiety enough to make me feel sick. There was always a lingering fear that Goldie had somehow learned how to manifest outside of the pizzeria and had come to get me, but the voices were nowhere near as deep or as cold.

"It's nice to see you again."

"You too, although I guess the circumstances could be better. How's it feel being out of that giant tin corset?"

The voices are faint and muddled but I still hear what they're saying. I must be dreaming, there's no way in hell- I resist the urge to pinch myself knowing that I am never safe from pain, even in my dreams.

"It looks like we've been replaced, Scott. It's a damn shame."

There is shuffling in the next room over and then a soft laugh.

"Look here, they still have pictures of us." The voice grows quiet, but I can still hear the wistfulness in the man's voice. The other chimes in, filling the silence.

"Well, would you look at that..."

Slowly, it dawns on me. I'm not dreaming. Frantically, I scramble down the hallway and charge into the kitchen again, only to be greeted by tense silence. Several minutes later, after standing like a psychopath in the middle of the apartment, I give up and reluctantly return to bed, pulling the covers up. I don't drift off, now too restless to sleep. Minutes later, the door opens. I freeze. The voices are close and clear now, and I squeeze my eyes shut, feigning sleep.

The first voice speaks. "I can't believe it's all over." It's Scott. He sounds exhausted.

"Yeah." I barely hear Vincent, but he sounds hoarse, as if years of yelling had caused permanent damage to his vocal cords.

I feel the tears welling in my eyes. I am too afraid to sit up, lest they vanish again. When I sniffle, I still feel them in the room.

"Nightmares, I'm glad those are over." Scott mumbles. I can feel something sit on the edge of the bed. A cold hand presses to my cheek. 

Sure enough, I feel Vincent's hand- I could tell as his palms were always rough- and he reaches up to run his fingers through my hair. I am aware that my breaths come now in short gasps. Oh god, I can even smell them both, and when I reach to drape my arm across Vincent's legs, I can feel him. He's real. They're both real. Another body, I assume Scott's, sits down beside Vincent, and they dissolve into silence as if relishing the sensation of finally being together once again.

"Please don't leave me." I finally whisper. There is no reply for some time, but I still curl around my lost friends for comfort.

"We'll see you soon." Scott says, his tone dampened by the somberness of the situation. I hold tighter.

"J-Just stay here a little longer. Please." I beg softly.

"We gotta go, but we'll meet up again, squirt." I feel lips on my temple.

"You two are the best things that have ever happened to me. I love you guys so much."

Instead of their affirmation, I am greeted with silence. As if waking from a dream, my body jerks and I cannot feel them any longer. Their scent clings to the air and I breathe it in until my head spins.

When I finally open my eyes they are gone, and I somehow know it's for good, yet I sleep soundly for the first time in years. When I wake up in the morning, I wrap my arms around myself, and where I had felt pain, I now felt nothing but a deep, serene calm.

It is then that I realize that all is right. We are at peace.

-fin-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of my readers for following along in this wild ride! I really hoped you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> 11NOV2015: Pssst- If anybody is interested. I'm hoping to write a prequel that further explains the canon behind ADML taking place from prior to the springlock accident and the Bite of '87 until the beginning of this fic. Expect another story, more shenanigans, and a lot more smut once I get my sanity back from college! >BD


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